A Dark Knight's Day
by Rupert Brown
Summary: Batman & Xena team up to capture an escaped Callisto and Joker. Meanwhile, Robin meets Gabby.
1. Default Chapter

Title:"A Dark Knight's Day" 

"Type":Crossover/Mainstream

Subtext:No. Subtext? What subtext? Never heard of the stuff. ;-)

Rating: PG-13 SC, V, L

Spoilers:Possible spoilers for "Callisto".

Continuity Placement:Following "Callisto" but prior to "Return of Callisto".

Historian's Note:There may be some inconsistencies in regard to alcoholic drinks in ancient Greece, and a certain variety of birds in that area as well. I know there is no excuse for not doing one's research, but I'll ask to be excused anyway. ;-)

Synapses:If you can't at least guess from the title and type of story it is... ;-)

Author's Note:I wrote this little ditty in November of 2000, it's taken this long for it to go through all the stages necessary for public consumption. Hey, for me this is blazing speed. ;-)

To date, this is my most extensive fan fiction. I hope someone, somewhere, thinks it at least mildly cool. Please… ;-)

Also, in posting this story to this site I've had to make a choice between keeping fonts but giving up formatting, or keeping formatting but giving up fonts. I've chosen the former, so you'll have to make allowances for paragraphs not lining up. Hey, the price one has to pay to keep bold and italics. ;-)

Archival Permission:Yes. But I'd like to know first. (Like anyone would want this tripe! ;-)

Disclaimer:All characters within are the sole property of Studios USA and/or Renaissance Pictures and AOL/Time Warner. The use herein of these characters is for private use only. No infringement is intended, either expressed or implied. All rights reserved. Copyright 2003.

_A Dark Knight's Day  
_

**GOTHAM CITY PRESENT DAY**

"Hurry up, will yaz? We ain't got all night ya knows."

"Gettoff my back. It ain't like I've never done this before."

'This' being the jimmying of a lock. A lock which was attached to the door in front of them, which in turn was connected to the back of a jewelry store. Which contained, oddly enough, jewelry. Jewelry which the two men aimed at getting this night.

But no Sunday shoppers were these, no, no. They weren't searching for an anniversary present or graduation gift, no; these two were what are known as 'burglars'. And at this moment they were attempting to 'burgle'.

A faint _click_ signified that they were in. Putting his pick away, the first man e-a-s-e-d the door open. The alarm had already been taken care of. Taking a quick look around, the man entered, clearing the way for his partner to slip in and close the door behind them. Retrieving sacks they had hidden under their jackets, the pair 'went to work'.

They were obviously professionals. Thug #1 headed for the display case, while Thug #2 headed into the back for the safe. Careful not to make too much noise, they set about their appointed tasks.

Retrieving the mini crowbar he had stashed in a coat pocket, Thug #1 broke out the flimsy lock that held the display case shut. Having done that, he set to 'liberating' the jewelry within. His partner, however, wasn't having such an easy time of it.

The safe wasn't the model he'd thought it'd been, but no matter. All it meant was five, maybe ten more minutes tops. And contrary to what he'd said earlier, they _did _have all night.

Ten minutes, and a few swear words later, they'd cleared the place out. The contents of the safe stuffed neatly in the sack over his shoulder, Thug #2 signaled that he was ready to go.

Thug #1 gave him a thumbs-up and they made to leave. Being pros, they listened to hear if anybody had taken notice of their little nocturnal escapade. Not likely, but one never takes chances in this business.

Nothing seeming amiss, they opened the backdoor again and slipped out single file, just as before.

Checking both ends of the alley, and seeing the coast was clear, they emerged from the doorway, closed and re-locked the door, and stood still to listen again.

Still nothing. Finally satisfied that they were in the clear, they let out their collective breaths. Giving his partner a grin, Thug #1 readjusted the sack of loot he was carrying, and headed for the end of the alley and the street beyond.

Preoccupied with thoughts of their heist, neither man noticed the shadow that fell over them.

The first indication of trouble Thug #1 became aware of was the gasp of his partner behind him. Puzzled, he turned around to see—Nothing. His partner was gone. Vanished into thin air.

Becoming more puzzled, he turned back toward the street again. _This _time he saw something. Though it wasn't his partner.

What he saw made his blood run cold and his mouth go dry. What he saw was a demon, a nightmare out of the collective psyche of Gotham's underworld. A sight that made everyone from the penny-ante street hustlers to the highest _Mafiosos _break out into a cold sweat.

Quaking with fear, the thug managed to croak out a single, strangled phrase:

"The Batman!"

There are two reactions to fear: Fight or Flight. And one never knows which one will end up doing until the time comes. For Mr. Thug, it was 'Fight'.

In wild-eyed desperation, he lashed out at the figure before him and hit—nothing. There was nothing there, his fist connected with air. Frantic, he whirled around once more…. just in time to receive a blow that crushed his nose. Clutching at his face, he never saw the knee that came up to strike him in the solar plexus, robbing him of much needed air. And neither did he see the blow to the back of his neck that mercifully rendered him an unconscious heap at the feet of his assailant.

But Thug #2 was made of sturdier stock. A thick bull of a man, he was just beginning to shake off his assault.

Though he had heard the same tales, and frequented the same circle of people as his compatriot had, his was a decidedly different response to the figure before him, the one they call 'Batman'.

As opposed to fear, he felt rage. He didn't appreciate being manhandled, and the phrase 'you do the crime, you do the time' was utterly lost on him. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, and wherever he wanted. He was sore, he was angry, and he had an over-inflated opinion of his fighting skills.

Bellowing like a wounded moose, he charged the back that the figure had turned to him. Only, by the time his arms got within reach, there was nothing to grasp.

Unable to halt his momentum, he slammed face first onto the pavement, helped along by the foot the figure had used to trip him. But as was said before, Thug #2 came from hearty stock.

Spitting out a couple of broken teeth, he got back to his feet, wiping the blood from his nose at the same time.

Rage can cloud even the smartest man's thinking, but not being a smart man in the first place, it doubly affected Mr. Thug.

Seeing the bored, almost indifferent look on the face before him sent Thug #2 into an even more heightened pique of rage. Roaring once more, he hurtled forward like a freight train, his arms extended and murderous thoughts in his heart. This time the figure merely stepped aside, allowing the thug to run into the alley wall full tilt. The sickening _crunch _could have been heard all the way from the street.

Though dazed and unsteady on his feet, Mr. Thug wasn't finished. While being a murderous, thieving, double-dealing bully, you had to admit that he had determination. For whatever it was worth.

So, working though the haze of pain, and trying to focus his eyes (which would not stop seeing triplicate), he came at Batman once more.

Swinging a meaty fist, Thug #2 tried to land a haymaker. The figure ducked. Shaking his head to clear it, he tried again, this time with his left. This time there were satisfactory results, though not for him.

The shadow had caught the arm in mid-swing, and using its momentum, flung the thug over his shoulder and into a stack of garbage cans, causing quite a ruckus. The irony of garbage in garbage wasn't lost on the silent figure.

The thug was spent, laying back amongst the trash in blissful slumber. Sirens could be heard blaring in the distance, getting progressively closer. That was his cue.

Giving the two would-be robbers a last look, the dark specter turned away and headed for the other end of the alley. But not before a stray moonbeam fell upon his chest, lighting, for all to see, a great black bat outlined against a yellow orb of its own.

**MACEDONIA 46 B.C.**

"I'm not in the mood for games old man! Where's the Eye of Abrixus?"

"Let's cut 'em some, see if we can't 'loosen' his tongue." The men gathered about laughed at their companion's suggestion.

"Hear that old man? Start talk'n or I'll let Maximus here have a go at you."

The old man's voice rang out like steel, "Never! I'll not tell you a thing. The Eye will never be held by the likes of you!" He nodded his head, indicating the group around him. They merely chuckled.

"'The likes of you.'" Mimicked the leader. Dropping the old man with a _thud _he turned imploringly to his comrades, mock despair on his face.

"Looks like this old bird is too tough for us boys. Whatever shall we do?"

From somewhere in the group a voice piped up, "Flog 'em!" Another chimed in, "Skin 'em alive!" And before long a chorus of suggestions were aired, each more horrendous than the last.

Their leader pretended to act dismayed at what he was hearing.

"'Boil 'em in oil?' 'Chop of 'is nose?' Gentlemen, gentlemen! I'm appalled at you. You'd treat our good friend here as though he were a common criminal? Shame on you! No, no, such things shouldn't even be thought of. No, if our friend doesn't want to talk to us that's his right. Let's see what his daughter has to say instead." Signaling his men, they brought the old man's daughter into the room, kicking and screaming.

"No!" The old man leapt forward, only to be restrained by one of the thugs. His entire bearing had changed.

"What do you say boys? How about we ask _her_ where the Eye is?" The suggestion was met with low chuckles and leers in her direction.

"She doesn't know anything! Leave her alone!" Again the old man struggled against the arms that held him, again to no avail.

"Ho, ho. Looks like our friend here wants to talk after all," the leader grinned to his band.

"Tell us, where is the Eye of Abrixus?"

"You looking for this?" Xena stood in the doorway of the tavern, holding a sparkling gem in her hand.

It is a fact that those who turn to a life of crime tend to state the obvious. The leader of this particular band of marauders was no exception.

Whirling around at the voice, he pointed, "It's Xena! She's got the jewel! Get her!"

"Chiyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Issuing a war cry, she leapt into the air, her legs and body forming a 'v', catching the first two thugs in the face, knocking them out.

Sensing movement from the corner of her eye, she dodged to her left, barley avoiding the blade that had been meant for her head.

Still clutching the jewel in one hand, she swiftly detached the chakram from her belt. The round blade's keen edge had served her well over the years. With the briefest of glances, she threw it toward the large chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The chakram snapped the rope it was connected to and sent it crashing among the knot of men under it.

But there were still plenty left, and they rushed the raven-haired combatant. Unsheathing her sword, she slashed viscously at the nearest, dropping him where he stood.

Two more came at her from opposite sides. An idea having formed in her head, Xena kicked out at the table to the left of her, sending it skidding over the floor and tripping one of the thugs. She then turned her attention to the other one.

Steel clashed with steel as she met his first strike. Her war face grinning savagely, Xena kicked out, catching the man in the mid-section, temporarily stunning him. Taking the opportunity, she sent him to the floor with a backhand, and down for the count.

"Get her you idiots! Get her!" The lead thug roared. Not that it was doing him any good. The Warrior Princess held off all comers, beating them into submission. Swords, whips, round killing things; all manner of items were used to overwhelm the men. The very environment itself seemingly conspired against them. In the end, men were lying on the floor of the tavern in jumbled groaning heaps, unable to fight. Leaving the ringleader the only one left.

Having already drawn his sword, he grabbed the old man and raised it to his throat. "Stay put Xena! One step closer and the old man gets it!"

"So what do you want?" She regarded him with an almost bored look.

"I see you've got the jewel," he nodded toward Xena, who still had the gem tightly clamped in a fist. "And I've got this old man. What do 'ya say we call it a trade?" And though he tried to sound calm, a hint of desperation had crept into his voice.

"How about you give me the old man," Xena countered, "And I let you walk away alive. Otherwise…" She spread her arms, mock sympathy all over her face.

Licking his lips, the thug barked out, "No deal Xena. You can't do anything as long as I've got this old geezer. I've heard the stories; you've gone soft. 'Turned over a new leaf' and all that. You try and get me, the old man dies. And you're not willing to let that happen. Nah, you're not going to do _anything_."

"You're right," she replied, careful to keep her eyes fixed on his face, "_I'm _not."

At that moment the thug pitched forward, dropping his sword and falling to the floor senseless.

"It's about time," Xena remarked dryly, as Gabrielle stood over the man she'd just hit from behind.

"Doesn't look like you need any help," the blond responded, looking about the huddled masses littering the tavern.

"Still, punctuality is a virtue." She smiled at her companion.

Seeing the gang thoroughly rounded up and off on their way to prison, the duo made their good-byes and started out upon the road once more.

"That went well," Gabrielle said, twirling her staff and humming a tune. "Where to now?"

"Home". Xena stated.

Slightly puzzled, Gabrielle turned to her traveling companion, "Huh?"

"We're heading for Amphipolis to see my mother. Unless of course you have any objections…" She raised an eyebrow at the bard.

But she was far from objecting. She was already lost in the thought of fresh warm nut bread straight from the oven. Xena couldn't help but laugh at the rapturous look on her friend's face. And as the sun shone from overhead, the two made their way along the trail.


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 

_Drip. Drip. Drip. _He watched as each droplet formed and fell to the floor, forming a small pool. The result of a leaky overhead pipe, it was a constant among constants surrounding him.

He might have gotten up to fix it, had he been able to get up. But he wasn't. His legs were shackled together, and those shackles chained to the chair in which he sat.

He might have reached out anyway, to see if he could reach it from his chair. But he couldn't. His arms were firmly ensconced in a white canvas jacket, affixed with all sorts of buckles and straps.

But still he might have called out for someone to come and fix the leak. But he _would _not. In the impeding silence he merely gazed at each iridescent drop as it fell, fell for what could only be an eternity, before splashing down onto the cold, hard, cracked cement floor of the cell he was in.

Drop after drop he watched in seeming vacantness. Drop after drop he stared at dully, blankly. But there was nothing dull about the man. It was not the stare of a vegetable that looked upon the drops as they continued their inviolable journey, oh no. It was one of thought. The most deep and inscrutable kind.

They had imprisoned his body, but his mind was of his own domain, and that they could not shackle or chain. His mind was free to do what it would. They could not hold him here forever. Like the water, he would find a way out and be free. Like the water he was slow, methodical, patient. His time would come. He had only to wait. Only to wait…

"—Afraid I won't be able to make it back tonight Alfred." Batman said to the screen set in the dashboard.

The Batmobile turned a corner as the person on the screen responded. "Very well, Master Bruce," the exasperation clear in his voice. "I'll put your dinner in the oven. Again…" With a slight smile on his lips, Batman signed off. Alfred was a trusted friend, and he understood 'the game'.

It wasn't long until someone else buzzed him. "Batman here." He said, opening the connection. Oracle appeared on the screen.

"Just got word of something going down at the wharf. It looks like you were right, Gambono's feeling the heat and trying to offload his goods ASAP."

"Timetable?"

Batman could see her look down at the computer screen as she sought to bring up the right file.

Oracle, AKA: Barbara Gordon, had been an invaluable ally in his war on crime. The daughter of the city's Police Commissioner, Barbara had first started her association with the 'Bat Family' years ago as the super heroine known as 'Batgirl'. With a keen mind for storing information, and a natural knack for gymnastics, she had been a redheaded cyclone of justice.

That is, until the day a bullet severed her spine, leaving her in a wheelchair. It was while trying to battle back and live again that she'd taken on the role of 'Oracle', information broker to the 'cape 'n cowl' crowd. Taking her name from the legendary Greek Oracle at Delphi, Barbara became the 'go to' gal for superheroes everywhere. So while no longer doing it in person, she was no less instrumental in fighting crime today than she had been before.

Having found the file, she turned back to the screen, "From the shipping manifest, it looks like the _Magellan Bound,_ which is the ship by the way," she adjusted her glasses, "is scheduled to leave port at around six tomorrow morning. What makes it stand out is that it just got here tonight. After taking into account refueling time, and the tides, I'd have to say they're doing it between now and two. Later than that and the dock starts to come to life again, making a transfer too risky."

It was eleven-thirty now. That gave them two and a half hours, Batman mused. The drop would take anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour. And they'd want to be sure to give themselves plenty of cushion room, so they probably wouldn't wait till the last minute. So that meant they were most likely going to make the transfer somewhere between now and one thirty.

Oracle stood by, her mind running along the same track as Batman's, waiting for a response. Having decided upon a course of action, Batman addressed Oracle once more.

"Roger that. Batman out." But Oracle wasn't finished quite yet.

"One more thing," she put in hastily, before he'd had a chance to end the connection. "Alfred called," She smiled slyly at the Bat. "He asked me to tell you to not work yourself so hard."

Batman couldn't help but smile at the sentiment. "Tell Alfred I'll take a vacation when my 'services' are no longer needed."

Nodding, and with a smile on her face, Oracle signed off.

Alfred was a lot like a mother hen, Batman thought to himself. Not that that was a bad thing. He _did _need to slow down, and he would. Later… But tonight, this particular chick had to see a fox about a hen house. And having used up the barnyard similes, the Batmobile turned towards Gotham harbor.


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 

            She liked the chair, really she did.  And the room it was in.  It was her own special private place.  How thoughtful of them to give it to her.  How kind of them.  And she appreciated it, really she did.  And she'd love nothing more than a chance to show that appreciation.  She'd hug them, and hug them, and hug them until she felt their ribs crack one by one, slowly, irrecoverably crushing the organs inside.

            And then she'd make them a meal to show how thankful she was.  Pigs in a blanket would do nicely.  Ten little piggies, one from each of their feet.  Yes, garnish them with a nice white wine sauce and she'd serve it to them.  And she'd make sure they ate it all up.  Right down to the last hangnail.

            And then there was the 'kidney pie' to contemplate…  Yes, she'd like nothing more than to show her appreciation for her accommodations.

            But of course, there was the guest of honor to think about, mustn't run out of food for _her.  No, no.  Xena was _much _too important a person to be left hungry.  There was _so _much to prepare for her.  Dishes she would simply _die _for.  'Hair string Spaghetti'…  'Blood Pudding'…  'Finger Sandwiches'…  The list went on and on.  Yes, she simply __must have Xena over for dinner…  And then there was her little friend.  Dessert…  _

            Yes, she would have to get around to thanking everyone personally who was responsible for putting her here.  Thank them, and thank them, and thank them…

***

            "What's the matter Xena?" Gabrielle turned to her friend, worried.

            "Huh? Oh, nothing.  Just thought I felt something.  It was nothing." She banished the mood by cracking a smile. "The question's more like what's the matter with _you?" Xena gave the bard a friendly shove.  "The way your stomach's been growling a person would think you were starving."_

            "I haven't eaten since breakfast," Gabrielle put in defensively.

            Laughing, Xena threw an arm about her friend's shoulders.  "Let's see what we can do about that, eh?" And with her free hand she gestured at the tavern up ahead.

            Her eyes lighting up, Gabrielle raced ahead.  "Race 'ya there!"

            "Cheater!" Xena called back good naturedly, watching the blonde run for the tavern.  

She'd been that enthusiastic once.  What had happened to that youthful exuberant girl she had known? Shaking her head ruefully, she started for the tavern.

It was dark inside.  Small wonder, Xena thought.  By the looks of the patrons, light was a decidedly unwelcome visitor.  As it was, more than a few winced and placed their hands to their heads as Xena stood in the doorway. Unsympathetic, Xena strolled up to the bar, taking a seat next to Gabrielle, who was already starting on a rack of ribs.

"Kinda heavy for lunch isn't it?" She asked mildly.

"Mmmupthgmm!" Gabrielle replied, trying to talk around the mouthful of food, and failing.

"Don't talk with your mouth full.  It's not polite," The warrior woman admonished her friend absently while gazing around the room.

Your typical tavern, not too shabby, but having seen more than its fair share of activity.  The tabletops were stained, and Xena could smell the stale ale and dried sweat.  Though Gabrielle seemed obvious to anything expect the plate of food before her.

Xena caught one of the patrons looking at her. She looked right back.  He quickly adverted his eyes and became suddenly interested in his drink.  But it had been long enough to set off bells in Xena's head.  She'd seen him somewhere before.  Now where—

"I said," Gabrielle interpreted her train of thought, "that who knows when we might get another chance to eat." Taking a swig from her beaker, she washed down her meal.

"It's not all that bad," Xena said, refocusing her attention on her sidekick.  "We've got rations enough."

Gabrielle wrinkled her nose at the suggestion.  "Blah.  If I have to eat those for one more night I'm going on a hunger strike."

"More for me and Argo." Xena retorted brightly, noting the scowl that crossed her friend's face.

"Aren't you going to have anything?" She questioned Xena, steering the conversation back to the present.

"As a matter of fact, I think I will.  Barkeep, an ale if you please." Giving a quick nod, the barkeeper trundled off to get some.

Gabrielle pulled another face.  "A bit early isn't it?"

"Nonsense." Grinning wickedly, she raised her voice a bit louder.  "Look at these fine fellows," She motioned around the room at the patrons nursing their hangovers. There would be no rest for the weary while she was there.

As her ale arrived, she decided to take a stroll around the room.  Picking up her tankard, she seemingly wandered aimlessly about.  In fact, she was sizing up the crowd more carefully, while at the same time trying to identify that man in the corner.  

They all averted their heads as she passed, but it was somehow _different_ than the way he did.  Ambling closer, she made a show of sitting down opposite him.

"Whew," she said by way of introduction, "Sure is dusty out there today, isn't it?" The man mumbled noncommittally.

"Yep," she went on undeterred, "Starting to get hot too.  Good thing this tavern was handy.  To think we were about to set up camp a couple of leagues back." She watched the stranger's face to see how he reacted.

Was that the briefest flicker of lamentation she saw cross his face? She couldn't be sure.  "Yep, nothing like a mug of cool ale to set you to rights though.  But how about you neighbor?" She queried the rather shifty figure, "You from around here?"

"No.  Just passing through…" He replied, keeping his eyes fastened to the drink in his hands.

"Us too," Xena went on.  "Where you headed?"

"Martimas," the man said rather unsteadily.

"Us too!" Xena lied, "What do you say me and my friend tag along?"

The man looked frantic.  "Ah, no.  Ah, did I say Martimas? I meant Athens."

"Ah, too bad." Xena said, sounding disappointed.  "Well, maybe next time, eh?" Her face brightened as she rose from the table.

"Yeah, sure." The man said, relief in his voice.

As Xena made her way back to the bar, the man called out for the barkeep, paid his tab, and left as quickly as possible.  Xena gave him ten minutes, then turned to Gabrielle who had just finished her lunch.

"Let's go," she said, tossing a few coins onto the bar.

"What's the rush?" The bard asked, wondering at Xena's sudden urgency. Outside the bright sunlight made her squint.

"That man, the one I was talking to," Xena replied as she got Argo ready.  "I thought he looked familiar."

"Who was he?" 

"A thief named Salvitorus, he was in my army once.  I never forget a face.  Wherever he's at, trouble's not far behind.  He's up to something, and I want to know what it is.

"So what's the plan?" Gabrielle was fired up to be on another adventure.

"The plan _is_," Xena said, turning to look her friend square in the eye, "for you to continue on to Amphipolis.  My mother is expecting us, so I'm counting on you to 'convey my apologies'.  I'll meet up with you there after I'm finished."

"No way!" Gabrielle replied indignantly.  "Go to Amphipolis while you get to have all the fun? _Not _happening." She crossed her arms resolutely.  But Xena was having none of it.

"You _are _going to Amphipolis," she stated as a matter of fact, while leveling Gabrielle with 'the look'.

"You _are_ going to tell mom I'm sorry I couldn't make it," she went on.  "And you _are_ going to wait for me there until I get back." She finished, her voice like ice.

And though Gabrielle could get away with more than anyone else around Xena, even _she_ knew there was brooking no argument when the warrior princess used that tone.  So she submitted, but only reluctantly.  And she made sure Xena was fully aware of her displeasure at the decision.

"This sucks," the longhaired bard told her friend.  "You might need me, but fine, fine!" She threw her hands in the air.  "You can cook your own meals.  And you can brush Argo yourself.  And you can collect your own firewood.  In fact, I should be thankful.  I get a vacation.  I'm free from being 'the Warrior Princesses' handmaiden'.  You can get your own stuff, I'll have free time at last!" 

"That's the spirit," Xena grinned, pretending to be oblivious to the irony in Gabby's voice.

"Humph!" The bard fumed, actually stomping her foot on the ground.

When they got to the fork in the trail, Xena sent Gabrielle off towards Amphipolis while she herself made ready to follow the other path.  The one Salvitorus had taken.  He was heading for Martimas after all.

Her anger having mostly subsided, Gabrielle still called back over her shoulder, "Don't expect any nut bread when you get there!" and stuck her tongue out at Xena.  And with that parting shot, she turned the bend, being lost to sight to the chuckling Warrior Princess.

Shouldering her sword, she turned to her horse, "Ready to go hunting old girl?" Argo whinnied in response.  "I thought so." Mounting up, Xena started down the trail following Salvitorus' tracks.


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 

            "How long's this going to take? I'm freez'n out here."

            "It'll take as long as it takes.  Now quit 'ya bellyachen'."

            Batman could hear them as clear as if he were right next to them.

            On the top of an abandoned warehouse, across from where the men on the wharf stood, the Dark Knight lowered the ominoculars from his eyes.  Activity around the yard was brisk, but unusually so for this time of night.  He'd guessed right, and it looked like Gambono was trying to get his goods out of Gotham fast.  

            He could see a semi turning the corner and coming to a stop before the '_Magellan Bound_'.  But it wasn't alone.  Following it were four dark sedans, out of which poured large amounts of equally large men in bad suits.  Hired muscle.  All told, there weren't more than twenty men about, not counting the ship's crew.

            Putting a hand to his earpiece, he listened in on the goons' conversation once more.

            "—then _POW! He went down like a sack of potatoes in the eighth.  Lost me a bundle on that fight."_

            "Hey, what's that?" The second man silenced his partner, holding up a hand to listen.  After a minute of straining to hear nothing, the first man started again.

            "Ah, it's nuthen.  Probably some mangy alley cat or sumpin'."

            The second man had turned back around.  "Yeah, you're probably rig—" He stopped mid sentence, issued a gurgle, and fell forward.  

            Gunfire sprang up from everywhere, the people left standing jumped for cover.

            "Jumping Jephosaphat! What's happenin'?!" Tommy "The Tuba" Carloni bellowed out above the _'ratatat' of gunfire.  He was one of Gambono's top lieutenants and was in charge of tonight's little foray.  Which, incidentally, had not promised anything of this nature._

            "We're being shot at boss!" 

            "I know that, ya moron! Who's doin' it?"

Batman had been as surprised as the hoods below when an armored truck came crashing onto the dock, rattling off automatic machine gun fire as it barreled down on the '_Magellan Bound' _and the people around it.

            The truck had screeched to a halt, its back doors flying open to reveal:

            "Hi'yaz peoples!" Harley Quinn burst out, followed by a dozen men strafing the area.  "Mista' J sends 'is regards."

            Garbed in the checkered outfit of her namesake, the Harlequin, she cut quite a figure.  Harley Quinn, formerly Dr. Harleen Quinzel, was the Joker's right hand girl.  At first assigned to cure him, she slowly descended into the very madness she sought to free him of. Brainwashed, she fell in love with the Joker, and would do anything for him.  The side effects of which not even he had foreseen.  While often whimsical, if not childlike, a keen analytical mind lurked beneath the white face paint and goofy demeanor.

            "Oh, pretty!" She stopped to take a Rolex from one of the dead mobsters.  "It'll make a great welcome back gift."

            Batman had seen enough.

***

"It's zat clown girl boss," A thick-set subordinate informed Carloni.  "You know, 'dat crazy broad that's always hangn' around 'da Joker."

"I don't care who it is meatball! Kill 'em!" 

"Give 'em blood an' vinegar boys!" Harley railed to her 'troops'. "The 'ole college try! The—oomph!" Quinn suddenly found herself sitting down upon the ground—hard.  Then, without any notice, pulled backwards until coming to a rest behind crate some distance away. 

Surprised, she looked down at the steel cable that encircled her body.  And with equal surprise she looked _up—into the face of Batman._

"Ah, you again?" she asked with disdain.

"What's your game Quinn?" With all the action going on, no one had noticed the girl's disappearance.

"Ah, blow it out 'yer ear Bat-Boy." She crossed her arms (or would have, had she been able to), clamped her mouth shut, and looked for all the world naught but a stubborn child.

"Don't go away." And with that he made for the action, leaving Quinn tied up.

He came upon two of the Joker's men keeping some of Carloni's forces pinned down.  

They never saw it coming.

Stepping past the unconscious heap, Batman continued onward.

*******

            "Come on, come on!" Carloni extolled his men to move faster.  Feeling his own life of more value than the cargo, 'The Tuba' had gathered together what men he could to make a dash for one of the cars they'd arrived in.  Their progress was hampered by the running gunfight they were engaged in with the Joker's men.  He dived behind a barrel as a bullet whizzed by his ear.

            "Hurry up!" he could see the cars clearly now.  Not more than a hundred yards away.  A hundred yards of open ground…

*******

            In all the bustle, neither side noticed as he began to pick off their numbers one by one.

            "Phil, gimme a hand her—", The thug slumped over, the Batarang having had the desired effect.

            "Huh? What do ya—", The second man dropped as well.

            Batman continued onward.

*******

            "Yous' heard what 'da boss wanted, so get 'da lead out!"

Fighting was still going on, but the Joker's men had found what they came for.  Grunting, three of them working together managed to pry one of the crates open.

            "How'er we know what we're look'n for?" Asked one of them.

            "It'll be the only thing in da box," replied the lead thug, while rummaging through the packing material.  

"Aha!" he cried, pulling his hand free to reveal a small, palmed size box.

            "All'a this just for _that?" one of them let out incredulously.  But before he could say anything more, he was roughly thrown into one of his cohorts, sending them both sprawling to the pier._

            "It's Batman!" one of them yelled, before joining the duo before him.  It was at that point when chaos erupted into pandemonium.

*******

            "What the--?" Carloni scratched his head as he saw the Joker's men, who had seconds before been shooting at him and his boys, suddenly leave off and head back towards the ship.

            "Some sorta fracas boss—", The gomba was cut off by a shrill cry: "It's Batman!"

            "Come on!" the goon tugged at Carloni's suit, "Now's our chance!"

            "Get yous' stink'n hands offa me!" 'The Tuba' pulled away, straightening himself up.  Running was now the furthest thing from his mind.

            "Yous' heard 'em, the Batman's over dere! It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel, two birds wid one stone!"

            It was perfect. While the Joker's hit squad were busy with 'The Bat', his guys could wax the lot of them.  He could see it now: Not only would he have seen the goods off, but he'd have iced some of the competition and killed the legendary Batman himself! Gambono'd make him his right hand man.  Ma Carloni hadn't raised a fool.

            Greed and the lust for power overrode his sense of self-preservation.  Where just a minute ago it seemed he'd be lucky to just get away alive, he now stood on the brink of his greatest victory.

            Grabbing a gun from one of his bodyguards and giving it a wave, he lead them back into the fray.

*******

            The Joker's forces had regrouped and were attempting to play a game of 'kill The Bat'.  As it was, they were more of a danger to themselves than to him.

            He dodged as the man behind him took the bullet instead, felled by his own compatriot.  The gunman was taken out with a fist to the jaw.  Batman hit the ground and rolled as a trail of automatic gunfire chewed up the dock behind him.

            Coming up with a bound, he released a handful of _shuriken_, silencing several of the gunners, now far too busy nursing their hands to be able to pull a trigger.

            Running like a broken field tackler, Batman ducked and weaved, bobbed and crouched, all the while whittling down the Joker's men.  Now he heard Carloni's men reentering the fight.

            A piling exploded near Batman's head, the fragments ricocheting off his cowl.  Enough was enough.

            He reached for his utility belt and retrieved a cylinder.  Taking a deep breath he pulled the pin and tossed it amongst the fighting mob.  A purple cloud erupted over the entire area; the results were immediate.

            One by one, and in groups, both sides dropped their weapons and collapsed to the dock, the knockout gas doing its job.  In a matter of seconds, the pitched fight had ceased, and all that could be heard was the gentle lapping of the waves against the ship's hull.

            Waiting for the cloud to disperse, Batman counted the seconds until it was safe to breathe again.  He then started to look over the area.  The stuff already aboard the ship was secure enough, so he concerned himself with the material that had still been waiting to be loaded.  

            The Joker's men had to have wanted something; there was more to this than a routine gangland hit.  For starters, the Joker was currently residing in Arkham Asylum.  And as far as Batman could ascertain, he hadn't had any outside contact in months. So he couldn't have ordered the hit.  And even if he had, it wouldn't have done him much good, being on the inside.  And while at times wily, Harley Quinn wasn't the 'Master Criminal' type.  The organization and upkeep of a criminal empire was beyond her abilities.

            So if it wasn't a routine hit, that meant they must have had a purpose here tonight.  The question then shifted to 'what'? Batman gazed at the crates piled up on the dock as his train of thought continued.

            The cargo obviously, it being the only feature of interest.  Not the cargo itself though, he amended, as he distinctly remembered the Joker's men rooting around for something specific.  So what _particular item had they been after? Again, the question was 'what'?_

            He searched the area until he found an open crate.  Whatever it had contained was gone, that much could be seen.  Not knowing what had been in it, he didn't know what to look for.  Still, he cast about searching for anything 'out of place'.  Not seeing anything, he took down the information on the crate for further review.  

            Having gleaned all he could for now, he headed back to where he'd stashed Quinn.  Now that he knew what questions to ask, it was time for some answers.

            But he was in for his second surprise of the night when he got there.  All that remained were the charred remnants of his steel Bat-Line.  Quinn had vanished. Kneeling down, he rubbed some sort of left over residue between his gloved fingers.  Acid.  She'd used it to eat through the line, allowing her to escape.

            So Quinn was gone, and so was whatever she'd come for.  Something was brewing, and he aimed to find out what it was.

            Straightening up, he set out into the night in search of answers.


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 

                Wherever he was going, it was in a hurry, Xena reflected as she followed the tracks.  She'd been following the trail for two days now, and could make out certain rudimentary details.

            Salvitorus had a definite purpose in mind.  Far from 'passing through' as he had said, the rapidly at which he was traveling indicated that there was something in Martimas that demanded haste in getting there.  Whatever it was could only bode ill if he was involved, and by the way he had acted back at the tavern, he didn't want anybody knowing what it was, which also meant that whatever it was wasn't good.  Added to that, her gut told her something was wrong.  

            The tracks were coming closer together now, indicating Salvitorus was slowing down, most likely to stop and make camp for the night.  Tomorrow morning they could expect to hit the outskirts of Martimas proper.

*******

            "Yeah, big difference…" Gabrielle mumbled to herself.  Some 'vacation'.  She'd gone from having to get firewood for _Xena_, cooking for _Xena, and generally waiting on __Xena, to having to do these things for __herself.  Some change.  She hunkered down under the furs, watching the fire she'd built blaze merrily._

            But all in all it wasn't so bad.  Everyone needs some 'me time'.  Yeah, she'd make a real adventure of it.  Stop off at the best inns, sample the best foods, buy some things she'd been needing.  Yeah, she'd show Xena.  Show her that she could do fine on her own.  'Gabrielle: Warrior Bard'.  Yeah, that had a certain _ring to it._

            With those wistful thoughts, she bedded down for the night.

*******

            She could hear men outside.  They were always there.  The faces changed with the shifts, but their presence was always there.  Their pink little faces with their beady little eyes.  Eating their meals, snuffling around, grunting to one another.

            "Soon my little piggies," she thought.  "Soon you'll be able to squeal and squeal to your hearts content." Her whisper did not reach them.

                "Fat little piggies.  Ready for the slaughter."  Soon.  Soon…


	6. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 

                She turned at the 'whoosh' of the cape.  He'd made it past her security.  Again.  Damn.  It was time to upgrade.  Again.

            Looking up from her monitor, Oracle faced Batman.  Without preamble she launched into the subject. 

"Using the information you gave me, I was able to track down the missing item as belonging to S.T.A.R. Labs.  Looks like it's part of a super conductive cooling unit." She waited for a response.  When she got none she continued.

            "Something rang a bell with me, so on an off chance I did some more research."  She produced a spreadsheet from amongst the jumble that was her workspace. "There's been a rash of robberies over the past couple of months.  Nothing major, the raid last night was the highest profile one to date.  I looked into it and it seems that they're all connected.  You might be interested." She handed the sheet to Batman.  His scowl deepened.

            "Why wasn't I informed."  He did not sound pleased.

            "Like I said, it was all small stuff.  I thought it below your radar." Oracle replied defensively.  She didn't appreciate being chastised.

            "Nothing's below 'my radar'." He stated flatly, looking over the list.

            She was right, it did appear that these crimes were linked together.  Each item stolen on the list went together with another, which connected to another, etc, etc.  What they all added up to, he didn't like.

            "Where's Dick?" He wanted his former ward here if this was what he thought it was.

            "Space.  He's on a mission with the Titans."

            Batman's frown deepened even more.  "Then alert Jean Paul, I want someone to cover for me.  And get in contact with Tim.  I want a stake out of Arkham.  Anything happens, he's to contact me."

            Batman turned and left the way he'd came.

            "You're welcome," Oracle said sarcastically to the empty room. 

***

            "I just don't like it man.  That's all I'm saying."

            "But what can he do to ya Burt? Look at 'em.  He's trussed up like a bird on Turkey-Day."

            "I don't care.  I don't like the way he looks at me.  That _stare_ he gives.  It gives me the creeps man." The guard shuddered just thinking about it.

            One had to be made of stern stuff to work at Arkham.  Despite industry high pay, phenomenal benefits, and a large retirement plan, the average employee turnover rate was six months.  While the rewards were high, the risks were even more so.

            The absolute dregs of society were harbored there.  Freaks of the highest magnitude.  Literally wall to wall horrors.  To a visitor, a brief tour was enough to curl their toes and make them sleep with the light on that night.  It was like a zoo that displayed the most dangerous specimens in the world.  Row after row of pure fear.

            Two-Face.  Poison Ivy.  Scarecrow.  Mad Hatter. The list went on and on.  And above them reigned the sickest of all, the deranged of the deranged, the one inmate that even the others feared.  The Clown Prince of Crime himself: The Joker.

            Isolated.  Confined.  Chained and bound, he was the most feared of those who inspire fear.  The most loathed of a loathsome bunch.

            And he sat in his cell, day after day, saying nothing to anyone, merely sitting and waiting.  Allowing the tension to build.  Seemingly as inscrutable as a Buddha, except for when he would flash a smile at whoever served his food.  A smile so filled with malevolence, so purely evil, that the guard in question would be forced to take the rest of the day off to compose himself.

            And like a spider at the center of his web, he continued to wait.


	7. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6 

            The streets buzzed with sound as Xena entered Martimas.  From the street vendors trying to hawk their wares, to the chatter of old wives, the city reverberated with ever-constant sound.

            "You! Yes, you there! A fine warrior such as yourself must always be in need of a blade." A merchant in a turban grabbed for Xena's attention.

            "Already have one, thanks." She was distracted, trying to follow Salvitorus' outline through the crowd.

            "Ah, but not one of _this quality.  Hephaestus himself crafted this fine blade.  Forged on his mountain of power.  Gleaned from the fiery…"_

            Xena was no longer listening; her quarry was turning a corner.  With the merchant's sales pitch fading off into the morning air, she made her way through the sea of people, shadowing Salvitorus.  The masses of bodies reeked of the smell of civilization.

            A woman wearing a gauze shawl and smelling of peach blossoms would pass scant feet from a fishmonger fresh from the day's catch, stinking of his profession.  Children with nothing but play on their minds raced by men with decidedly more sinister reasons for haste.  All this and more Xena perceived as she fought her way through the streets.  And it reminded her of something: She was glad she didn't live in the city.

            Salvitorus stopped in front of a hovel, greeting the man before it.  The stranger frowned and they went inside.  Xena shoved and elbowed her way to the dwelling, trying to get in a position to hear what was going on.

            "You're late." The stranger said, seating himself at the one table in the room.

            "It's not my fault.  I had to take some detours.  And I wanted to make sure I wasn't followed."

            "The others have already gone ahead.  I was told to stay behind on the off chance you actually showed up and fill you in."

            "Well, I'm here now, so start filling." Salvitorus pulled up a chair and seated himself at the table as well.

            "The job's being done tomorrow night.  Figuring the fact that there ain't no moon be the best time." Salvitorus nodded his head, made sense to him.  The stranger went on.

            "Go in, crack the cage, get the bird, then fly on out." He fluttered his hands in a pantomime of a butterfly.  They laughed.

            "Sounds simple enough," said Salvitorus, "But then what?"

            "Then what? Then we sit back and let the good times roll.  There won't be nuthin' we can't do after this gig."

            Salvitorus thought of Xena back in that tavern, but he kept it to himself.  Didn't want to jinx it.  Besides, he'd bluffed her into thinking he was just a traveling stranger.  She was probably on the other side of Greece by now.

            In fact, she was just outside the back window, listening to their conversation with rapt attention.

            'Bird'? 'Cage'? 'Fly'? Xena puzzled over the problem while hoping the rogues had more to say.

            "We leave tonight." The stranger said.  He reached for the jug of wine lying on the table.  "Here's to good times and good fortune!" And with that they kicked off a mini celebration.

            She'd wait until they were sloshed, then she'd go in and find out what she wanted to know.  They'd be easier to handle that way.

***

            "15 dinars? Ha! I'll give you 7, and not an ounce more." Gabrielle put on her most business-like face.  She was in her element, haggling was in her blood.  Xena may have been a warrior of battle, but Gabrielle was a warrior of bargains.  And like all good warriors, she crushed her enemy unmercifully.

            "Deal." The vendor snatched the dinars, thrust the shawl at Gabrielle and closed up shop, picking up his cart and moving on, grumbling all the way.  Happily stowing the item in her travel bag, Gabrielle continued on.

            This had actually turned into a good suggestion on Xena's part.  The finery, the food; this _was_ what she needed.  Xena was a great traveling companion, but she was a bit on the Spartan side.  'Why pay good dinars when the dirt's for free?' she'd say whenever the mention of staying at an inn came up.  The ground was nice, but for Gabrielle's part she wouldn't pass up a bed when offered one.  

            Still musing, she didn't see the group of men until it was too late.

            "Oomph!" Gabrielle stumbled back as she collided with one of the strangers.

            "Watch where you're going!" He snapped roughly, muscling by.

            "Watch where _you're going!" She called back.  Giving a small snort, she got herself composed while watching the throng of men disappear into the crowd._

            "How rude." But her good humor was at once restored when she spied the bakery across the street.  Rubbing her hands, and with visions of nut bread dancing in her head, all thoughts of the incident were forgotten.


	8. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7 

                Batman sat in the Batcave, sans cowl, staring at the computer screen before him.  He didn't like what he saw. Just to make sure, he'd contacted Ray Palmer, one of the world's foremost scientists as well as being the masked avenger known as the Atom.  He'd confirmed what Batman had known.

            All these stolen parts, all these items added up to form a whole.  Like a jigsaw puzzle, each piece incongruous in and of itself, but when put side by side they form a larger picture.  A picture Batman didn't like.

            Time travel.  That was the only possible conclusion.  All of those parts, when fitted together, formed the necessary mechanism to create a chronological dissimulation teleporting device. A time machine.  Not a good thing to have in the hands of _any _criminal, much less the Joker's.

            Batman needed to track down Quinn and put the machine out of commission before it could be used, because whatever was about to happen was going to happen _soon_.  That last part was the last one needed.

            Since he'd figured out what that list had meant, Batman had been combing the city, turning the criminal element upside down searching for Quinn's hideout.  If they thought his activities hampering before, he was now downright crippling.  He hoped this increased crackdown would result in someone giving up Quinn's location.  He wasn't  to be disappointed.

            While still staring at the screen, the console beeped.  An incoming communication rerouted through a series of untraceable lines was fed into the Bat-Computer.  He recognized it as coming from a line he maintained for one of his undercover personas.  He changed his voice accordingly.

            Clicking a button, he barked out, "Malone.  What'd ya want?"

            "This you Matches?" A nasally voice on the other end whined.

            "Said so didn't I?" Responded Batman, impersonating the fictitious 'Matches' Malone.

            "Ah, how 'ya doin'?" It sounded like the speaker was shuffling.

            "Who's this? If this is some kinda crank…"

            "No, no Match.  It's me, ya know, Pete.  Pete Thomson."

            'Nasty' Pete Thomson.  Named not for being a tough guy, but for his personal hygiene.  The man had never met a bath he liked.

            "What'd ya want Nasty? I ain't got time for pleasantries."

            "'Ya know the crackdown that's goin' on? Wid the Batman?"

            "Yeah, who don't?  Now get to the point Nasty, my dialin' finger's getting itchy."

            "Okay, okay," Nasty hurried on.  "Well, word on the street is that he's lookin' for that Harley Quinn. Ya know, the Joker's gal."

            "Yeah…"

            "Well, I knows where she's at." Batman was now fully alert.

            "What's that got to do with me?"

            "Well, uh, some of the guys, well, they, uh, said that yous got an 'in' with the Bat."

            "What guys Nasty? What guys…?" Batman's voice dropped menacingly.

            "No, no, it ain't like that!" Nasty said in a panic.  "Not like that at all! They just say yous know hows to get in contact wid 'em, that's all!"

            "You callin' me a snitch Nasty? The last guy who called me a snitch ain't doing much callin' at all these days…"

            "No, no way M-Match!" Nasty stammered.  "Just that you know how to get a hold of 'em if'n you needs to.  That's all Match, honest!" Batman could sense that Nasty was telling the truth.  That was good.  It wouldn't do to have 'Matches Malone' compromised.

            "Okay, let's just say for arguments sake that I've 'got an in' with the Bat.  What does that have to do with you?"

            "Well, like I said, I know where the clown girl's hidin', and Batman's lookin' for her so I thought…"

            "Yeah…?"

            "Well, I thought," Nasty swallowed.  "That if'n someone were to let da Bat know where the girl was, then he'd like, ease up on us fellers, ya know?"

            "That's a very interest'n idea Nasty.  If'n I see the Bat I might let 'em know.  Of course, that's if'n I knew 'em.  And I didn't say that I did, did I Nasty?"

            "Naw, naw! You didn't say nuttin' like that, I'd swear on my affidavit, so I would!" Nasty had been in the business long enough to know when he'd 'seen nothing' and 'heard nothing'.

            "That's right.  You just remember that.  Now if'n I _did, what would you have me tell 'em?"_

            "To meet me at the corner of 5th and Dixon at seven tonight."

            "You're makin' an awful big assumption I could get that to 'em in time.  Assumptions can be bad for one's health Nasty…"

            "It doesn't have to be tonight! I'll be dere every night.  No rush Match, no rush!"

            "If'n I see 'em, I'll let 'em know.  Be good to get the heat off.  Been cramp'n my style."

            "Yeah, get the heat off!" Nasty went on, like a puppy dog.  "Been cramp'n alla styles.  Well, you just let 'em know that.  If'n you run across 'em!" He amended hastily.

            "See ya around Nasty."

            "Yeah, see ya around Match!" The line went dead as Batman broke the connection.

            So, now he had a lead.  The prudent thing would be to let Nasty sweat for a while.  

Let three, maybe four days go by before meeting him.  But time was of the essence.  Batman smiled at the unintentional pun. He'd have to meet Nasty tonight.  Seven o'clock—that was only eight hours away.  While he didn't suspect a trap, it wouldn't do to take any chances.

            Donning his cowl and leaving word with Alfred, he set off to stake out the reconnaissance point.

***

            "Did he say what I'm looking _for?" Asked Robin into his headset, continuing to stare at the unmoving hulk that was Arkham Asylum._

            "Just anything," replied Oracle, smiling to herself at his impatience.  She'd been like that when she'd been in the game.  So had Dick.

            "Great, that's specific…"

            "You'll know it when you see it, I suppose.  Think of it as a sight seeing trip." The amusement was evident in her voice.  "Oracle out."

            "Some sight…"


	9. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8 

                It wasn't until later that night that Xena made her move.  All day she'd had to follow the pair from tavern to hut and back again.  It'd been a chore, but she'd been able to keep herself inconspicuous.  Now, finally, the sun had set, the moon had come out, and the duo were inside their hovel, thoroughly drunk.  Though she'd kept careful tabs, neither had said any more about this 'plan' of theirs.  However, since whatever was going to happen was on a timetable, she couldn't afford to wait any longer.

            Taking one last look through the window, Xena proceeded to crash this little party.

Conscious of her surroundings, she stealthily slipped through the unshuttered window.  It wouldn't do to rouse the entire neighborhood.  Quietly, she made her way to the dozing figures before her.  Unfortunately, even as silently as she moved, it proved for naught.  At that moment an alley cat, spying a mouse, shrieked in delight/excitement - which left Salvitorus snorting into wakefulness.

            Xena quickly covered the distance from the window and slapped a hand over his mouth, while at the same time applying 'The Pinch', a concentrated blow to the neck that cut off the flow of blood to the brainand brought on instant paralysis.  All the while, Salvitorus' partner continued to slumber, oblivious.

            Turning the man's chair around, Xena saw the look of fright in Salvitorus' eyes.

            "Long time no see Salvitorus.  You know the drill.  I just cut the flow of blood to your brain, you have a minute to live, yada, yada, yada." She waved her hand about negligently.

            "So, how about you tell me about this plan of yours?" Xena's face took on a politely interested expression.

            Salvitorus shook his head, even as it was swimming due to lack of air.

            "Come on, no need to play coy with me," Xena cajoled.  "Just tell me, what—is—the plan?" She spaced the final words out slow and clearly.

            Still Salvitorus refused to say.  "…will…kill me…" He managed to choke out.

            "That may be true." Xena said, unfazed, "But if you don't tell me, you'll be dead all the sooner.  And then there's always your partner over there." She gestured to the still sleeping form across the table.

            "One way or another, I'm going to find out what I want to know.  Why not make it easy on yourself.  There's a chance you might escape whoever it is you're afraid of.  There is none here." She put as much inflection as she could in that last part. 

            Salvitorus looked uncertainly at his partner, then back at Xena.  

            "One more time," Xena drew her face up to Salvitorus', trying not to smell his breath.  "What are you going to 'spring'?"

            The man gurgled as his air supply ran ever lower, but with an intense effort, he was able to creak out a single word:

            "Callisto."

            Xena was so taken aback, she nearly forgot to undo the pinch.  Salvitorus fell back to the floor, gasping in deep breaths of air.

            Callisto? Xena's blood ran cold at the thought of that woman being at large.  With Callisto out of prison no one would be safe.  And they had said it was going to happen—tomorrow night! Her eyes widened in horror.  She didn't have any time to lose. It might already be too late. How could she warn the authorities in time? But she had to try! 

            Not even wasting a glance at its occupants, Xena dashed from the hovel to where she'd stabled Argo. "Sorry girl," Xena apologized as she started to saddle up the horse, "But we've got a lot of ground to cover, and fast." With that she swung up onto the horse, led her out of the stable and, urging her into a run, sped out into the night.


	10. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9 

            The area had checked out clean, but Batman was still on guard, straining to catch every nuance of his surroundings.

            It was 9:37, and 'Nasty' Pete Thomson had been down there for over two hours.  While Batman was pressed for time, he wasn't going to rush into anything.

            It was just as Nasty looked about to leave that the Dark Knight made his move.

            "Going somewhere, Nasty?" Batman placed a hand on Nasty's shoulder, coming up behind him.

            Nasty practically jumped out of his shorts, and from the smell of things he'd have to change them pretty soon.

            "I hear you have some information for me." It was not a question.

            "Y—yeah." Nasty stammered.  "Ab—about c—clown gir—I mean Harley Quinn, da Jo—Joker's squeeze.  I'z—I'z knows where she is."

            Batman merely stared.  Feeling even more unnerved, Nasty hurried on.

            "Abandoned meat p—packing plant on the south side.  Grant Way, c—can't miss it." Looking away, he screwed up his courage to ask the question that'd been on his mind. 

"So, now's you know where she is, you's gonna to let up offa us, right?" But when he looked back up for an answer, no one was there.

***

            It was cold, the wind was starting to kick up, and the weather report said there was a 70% chance for rain.  Swell, Robin thought to himself.  Not that he'd complain - it came with the territory.  Not every costumed crime fighter was impervious to the elements or could will up a handy overcoat.  

            Tim Drake, or rather Robin: The Boy Wonder as he was more commonly known (a moniker he had inherited from the original Robin, who now enjoyed a successful career as the adult vigilante known as 'Nightwing'), knew that while 'the game' was full of action and adventure, it was also tempered with waiting and studying.  He was more serious about it than his peers, who saw it as just one big neverending adventure.  To him it was a duty, and like any duty it took hard work.  You don't take down a super villain every day.  Some days you have to sit around doing nothing but waiting.  Like today.

            He'd been watching Arkham for days now, without so much as a peep from it.  He'd scrutinized the face of every person to have gone in or out, alert for any escapes.  So far, nothing.  He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, but he supposed time would tell.

***

            Now that he had an address, Batman was in a race against time.  Literally.  There was no telling how far along they were with building the machine.  The only condolence he had was that it hadn't been used yet as far as he could tell.  He'd gone so far as to call in a favor from Superman to check with the Linear Men to see if the timeline had been tampered with.  The report back had been negative.

            He was reviewing the consequences of the situation when his com beeped.

            "Batman," he answered.

            "It's Robin," The Boy Wonder's voice sounded startled.  "Something's just gone down at Arkham," In the background, Batman could hear the disorganized yelling of the staff. It sounded like total bedlam.

            "It's the Joker, he just disappeared! The guards say one minute he was there, the next _poof, he was gone."_

            Batman was immediately galvanized into action.

            "Get to Grant Way as fast as you can, the old meat packing plant.  I'll meet you there.  Batman out."

            Cutting off the communiqué, Batman kicked in the Batmoblie's afterburner, sending the vehicle rocketing down the street trailing a tail of fire.

            The Joker had simply vanished from his cell.  It didn't take much to figure out how.  So the Joker was free, and had possession of a time machine.  The situation was not good.

            Robin had been at it too long to question Batman's orders.  So while not fully understanding, he excused himself from the Asylum's personnel and made his way across Gotham's rooftops towards Grant Way.

***

            "Ah, it's good to be back!" The Joker laughed, as he looked about the abandoned plant, not so abandoned anymore.

            "It's good ta have ya's back Joker," One of his hired thugs responded, bringing the Joker his customary change of clothes.

            "I'm sure it is, my cranially-challenged cohort.  I'm sure it is." He was all smiles, still feeling the buzz of a plan gone right.

            "Worked just like you said it would Mista J.  Didn't it babies?" Harley Quinn aimed the question at her two pet hyenas, which she fawned over like children.

            Yes, it had been a clever plan of his to appropriate a time machine, the Clown Prince of Crime reminisced.  All the well-dressed villains had one.  He'd be the envy of his cellblock.  He giggled at the thought.

            Having shed his "asylum grays", he finished dressing in his familiar attire.

            "What now Joker?" Another of his gang wanted to know.  His companions muttered assent.

            "What now, my fine felonious friend? Why, we've all the time in the world to figure that out, don't we?" He laughed outrageously at his own pun.

            "But what about the Bat?" someone else wanted to know.  This time the muttering was more animated, if somewhat subdued by the man before them.

            "Batman?" The Joker threw a hand to his head, in obvious pantomime of deep thought.

            "Yes, yes…  Batman, hmmm…" He drummed his fingers on his head, walking slowly among his cronies, who were feeling more and more uncomfortable.

            "I know!" He whirled around, startling not a few of the men.  Chuckling to himself, he walked in front of the time machine.

            "Why not," and he paused here for dramatic effect, "use the time machine to take care of the Bat?" The room buzzed with the news.

            "I need to start an I.Q. requirement around here…" He muttered out the side of his mouth.  "Yes," he continued on, "it's high time Batman was taken care of once and for all."

            "A month, a year, ten years, it doesn't matter.  We could even go back to when the Bat was nothing more than a winged brat.  The possibilities are endless.  Wealth, power, good laughs, they can all be ours.  The world's become our home, and this little gadget is the doorway.  What say we start throwing a house warming party?" Cheers erupted from the gathered men.  Emboldened by the rousing reception, the Joker went on.

            "That's the spirit! In next to no time you'll all be rich men.  Literally! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" The Joker continued laughing as Harley Quinn came to stand beside him.

            "Where to my copiously corrupt cronies? Paris in the roaring twenties? Rome in the swinging thirties?"

            "How about Arkham—twenty minutes from now." A new voice said from the rafters.

            In the silence that suddenly developed, everyone looked up into the shadows. "It's Batman!" One of the goons shouted, pointing.

            That was his cue.  Fanning his cape out around him, Batman leaped into the throng below, appearing to be a dark wraith of vengeance.

            The only person not stunned by this sudden appearance was the Joker, who instead whirled around in a mad scramble to start the time machine.  But he found his progress checked.  Annoyed, he looked down to see that the arm of his suit was pinned to the wall by a Batarang.

            Robin had made it to the scene.  Grinning from ear to ear, he too swung down from the ceiling, bypassing the brawl below him, landing near the time machine - and the Joker.  Batman could handle himself; the Joker, on the other hand, couldn't be allowed to get away.

            "If it isn't the Boy Blunder," the Joker sneered casually, all the while tugging to free his sleeve.  "Harley, introduce him to the kids!"

            "You heard Mista J, go get 'em babies!" With a deft move, she unleashed the two hyenas.

            Wide eyed, the Boy Wonder ducked as the first one went flying over his head, to fall yelping into the melee behind him.  But the second hit him square in the chest, sending them rolling across the floor together.

            "That'll teach ya's ta mess with my Mista J!" Harley yelled after the boy.

            With one final wrench, the Joker was able to free himself from the wall.  Smoothing his jacket, and running a hand through his emerald green hair, he made his way to the machine once more.

            "Joker!" Batman's voice roared over the crowd, arresting the Joker's movement.  The Joker turned to see the Dark Knight get free of the entanglement of bodies and launch himself at him.  He barely had time to grab Harley Quinn and toss her in the caped cretin's way.

            With a startled cry, she slammed into the oncoming Batman, sending both to the floor in a heap.  Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, the Joker tried for the machine once more.  This time he found his foot snared in a Bat-Line, courtesy of Robin, who had dispensed with the hyena. 

            "What is this? 'Hang up the Joker Day'?" It was getting so that a man couldn't even use his own time machine around here.  He'd have to be sure to write a letter to the mayor.

            As he was working to get his foot loose, he saw that Batman was already back on his feet.  He was about to berate Harley to do something, when he noticed that one of his guys had finally managed to get hold of a gun.  One that was rapidly sighting in on Batman, who was close to the Joker, which in turn meant _too close to the machine.  That was not a good thing._

            "No you idiot! We're too close to—"

                The explosion was deafening.


	11. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

            It was well into the morning before Gabrielle woke up.  That was one of the perks of traveling on your own - you can get up at your own time.  She stretched deliciously, smiling at what Xena would think of her sleeping in so late.  While she loved her friend dearly, Xena _did have some annoying habits.  Among them was the tendency to wake at dawn, and expecting everyone _else_ to do so as well.  Frowning at the thought, Gabrielle made ready to face the day._

            What would she do today? Possibilities abounded.  She could try her hand at fishing in that stream she saw just before she made camp for the night.  Or she could sit under that tree over there and work on her scrolls, or a poem or two.  Then again, she could press on to the village that she knew was up ahead.  So many choices.  But whatever she did, Gabrielle was certain that today would be exciting.

***

            She was too late.  Far too late.  The picture before her was total pandemonium.  Callisto had escaped. The Destroyer of Nations was on the loose, people cried, running through the streets wailing to no one in particular.  The bloodshed had already begun.

            Grimly, Xena pressed on towards the prison.  She could see it now, just over the next rise.  Before she could reach it, she was stopped by a garrison of guards, eyes red-rimmed with lack of sleep, the current situation making them edgy and jumpy. After explaining who she was, Xena was quickly led to the prison.

            "Xena!" The warden cried, both surprised and extremely relieved.

            "Bothar." They grasped arms in greeting.

            "No doubt you heard." Bothar grimaced and passed a hand over his face.

            "It's been nothing but sheer confusion since last night.  Someone," and he paused, as though he couldn't credit such a thing, "came in under the cover of darkness and freed Callisto.  Come, I'll show you." Waving his escorts to follow, he led Xena deep into the bowels of the complex.

            "As you can see, the guards are dead," The sight made even Xena's stomach churn.  Averting his eyes, Bothar went on.

            "From what we can get out of the other prisoners, a group of men, posing as new inmates, were led by a bogus guard up to these cells.  Apparently they overpowered the guards, sprung Callisto, then, well—you can see for yourself." He indicated the mutilated corpses.  Again, Xena felt a wave of nausea.

            "Actually, it's a good thing you came.  Saves me having to track you down." At Xena's quizzical expression, he gestured for her to come with him into the cell.  He merely pointed to the wall.

            There, written in blood, with letters a foot high, was a message:

_Pleasant dreams Xena…_

            Xena stared at it for a long time before turning away and accompanying the warden back into the sunlight outside.

            "We sent a search party after them as soon as we found out." Bothar gestured ineffectually.

            "They won't find her." Xena's voice sounded flat as she stared straight ahead, looking at nothing.  "It's me she wants, nothing less will do."

            "So what do you propose?"

            Checking her scabbard, Xena turned to look Bothar in the eye.

            "I propose to capture her, and bring her back if possible…"

            "I'll send some men with you—"

            "No," She cut him off mid-sentence.  "They'll only get themselves killed.  Get word to the villages that Callisto's loose again.  Tell them to run, hide… just stay out of her way."

            She paused as she mounted Argo.

            "And mine." 

With that, she headed out across the country.

***

            It felt good to breathe fresh air again.  Not at all like her cell, with its damp, humid quality.  And to be able to move around, as opposed to being strapped in a chair all day, yes, that too felt good.

            While the seasons might argue otherwise, for her it was spring.  A time of renewal, a time of rejoicing.  When nature's patterns coursed through oneself and old cycles begin anew.  After a long winter, she had emerged from imposed hibernation to drink of life.  Copious amounts of life.  Already she had tasted the sweet nectar of life itself.  Washed her hands in the very well spring of it.  Watched as it coursed down the pale skin of a man and stained his clothes a deep, rich red.  The color of life, the color of death.

            But she was far from sated, oh no.  Long had she been away, and mighty had her thirst become.  Such joy, such freedom.  She must share this wonderful feeling with Xena.  Yes, only she would _fully_ appreciate the beauty and the art of it all.  Already she had left the warrior princess a calling card.  It wouldn't be long now.

            "Where to now?" A gruff voice rudely interrupted her ruminations.  Tomis, one of her rescuers.  She turned towards him.

            "Where do you suggest?" She asked sweetly.

            "I think—" He began, only to fall from his horse, withering on the ground, his throat cut.

            "Anyone else been thinking?" She asked just as sweetly, wiping the blood from her dagger.

            They shook their heads emphatically.

                "In that case…" She turned her horse west, setting the pace for the others to follow.


	12. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

            His head throbbed like someone was using it for a drum.  That was the first indication that he was alive.

            The Joker groaned as he slowly got to his feet.  What he needed was some Excedrin.  What he got was a shock.  Rubbing his temples, he began to look around to get his bearings.  What he saw didn't match what he expected.

            He'd half expected to find himself back in his cell at Arkham.  He was pleasantly surprised to see that was not the case.  But he was no less puzzled.  Where was he? He didn't remember there being any forests in Gotham City.

            Briefly, he thought that his gang had spirited him out of the city, but instantly dismissed the idea.  He was, as far as he could tell, alone out here.  On the off chance though, he called out to his various minions.  Nada.  Then how could he—

            Of course! He slapped himself upside the head, instantly regretting it.  The time machine, that was the only answer.  Somehow in the explosion the machine must have transported him somewhere.  But where? Or when? 

            Who cares, as long as he was away from 'Flatman'?  Anything beyond that wasn't an immediate concern.

            He was about to try and make his way towards civilization (whichever one it may turn out to be), when he heard shouting not far away.  At the same time, he noticed smoke rising up out of the canapé in the same direction.  A forest fire? Great.  Where was Smokey the Bear when you needed him? But as he continued to watch, the fire didn't seem to be reaching the rest of the trees, and the shouting was now intermixed with what sounded like steel ringing out.  Like a hammer on a forge or something.  Intrigued, the Joker headed towards the clatter.

            When he parted the last branch, he found himself in a rather large clearing.  But the woodland splendor was lost on the purple clad figure.  His attention was drawn elsewhere.  

            For example, the rampaging mob that was running through the village at will, looting, burning, and killing.

            Bemused, he strolled through the village witnessing the carnage with the approving eye of a professional.  Yes, now this was the stuff!  All thoughts of his headache vanished as he allowed the ecstasy of the moment wash over him.

            He amiably wandered around, a perpetual calm in the whirlwind around him.  He passed frightened villagers running for their lives, occasionally tripping one up to help the chasing marauders.

            Women with babes fled into the woods to escape the savagery that had descended upon them.  Men fell to the ground, their brains spilling out like ripe fruit.  Houses fell down as structures gave way to the ravages of fire.  All this and more the Joker watched with total approval.

            Whoever was in charge of this merry band of murderers was efficient, the Joker gave them that.  Not that imaginative, but they made up for that in brutality.  Yes, the Joker mused to himself, not a bad raid.

            Idly, he picked up a fallen knife.  Nice blade. He balanced it in his hand. Good feel too.

            "What's that?" He heard a feminine voice to his left.  Turning, he saw a blond haired woman come into view from behind the huts.  She was flanked by several men.

            "N-nuth'n," the man quickly shoved something down the back of his pants.  Amused, the Joker lounged against a hut.

            "Tsk, tsk…" The woman slowly shook her head in mock sympathy.  "You know I don't like liars Caloklic.  And I like people who steal from me even less." Her eyes narrowed, all pretense of understanding gone.

            "If there's one thing I expect, even from scum, it's obedience.  _I_ decide who gets what, or did you forget that? Whatever we take is _mine.  And _I_ decide what's to be done with it.  Isn't that right boys?" The other men grunted affirmatives._

            "If we can't trust each other," she said, all wide-eyed innocence, "who can we trust?" Then the 'innocence' was gone, and in its place was a maniacal gleam that reminded the Joker of someone.  Oh yeah, that good-looking chap he saw whenever he looked in a mirror.

            "Callisto," Caloklic warbled, backing away from the woman and her knot of adherents.  "Let's not do anything we'd be ah regrett'n, okay?"

            "Oh, I won't regret this…"

            Turning on his heel, Caloklic dashed away, with the group right after him.

            With the merest flick of his wrist, the Joker tossed his newfound knife into the back of the retreating figure.  Caloklic let out a gasp, then dropped like a stone to the ground, dead.  The action brought the pursuing group up short, and for the first time they noticed the strangely-clad figure with chalk white skin and emerald green hair.

            "Good help is so hard to find," The Joker said, shaking his head ruefully.

            All looked at the man worriedly, except for Callisto, who, unperturbed, detached herself from the group.  Walking up to the Joker, she looked from the dead figure of Caloklic to him and back.

            Meanwhile, the Joker was examining Callisto just as closely.

            It was quite obvious by now that this woman was the orchestrater of these festivities.  He had to admit, if only to himself, that he was a bit surprised.  He knew women were capable of such brutality (why should men have a corner on the market?), but he had never come across one.  This lady was the real deal.  No simpering goody-goody wannabe like Catwoman, and obviously possessing more intelligence than Harley Quinn could ever hope for.  

The look in her eye, the way she held herself, right down to her attire, it all spelled one thing to the Joker: kinship.  A feeling quite foreign to the Clown Prince of Crime.  To travel who knows where, and over who knew how many years, to end up finding a kindred spirit.  Or perhaps, dare he hope, an _equal?_

To Callisto, the man was an enigma, and she found herself for the first time in a long time interested in something.   Curiosity was alien to Callisto - if she couldn't gut, burn, or pillage it, she didn't care about it.  But this man held her attention.

His clothes were like nothing she had ever seen.  Everything from the cut to the uniformity of the color, to the color itself, was unknown to her.  But the clothes were only part of the mystery.     

His face, and what other parts of exposed skin she could see, was the whitest white she had ever seen.  Not flesh toned, but actually _white.  White as milk.  In fact, the only deviation she could see was the lips, which were blood red.  A red that no amount of berry juice could procure.  And to top off this brightly odd looking figure was green hair._

But as much as his appearance interested her, it was the less obvious, the subtle things, that really gave Callisto food for thought.

First off, his actions.  Here he was, surrounded by death and destruction, and he didn't even bat an eye, as though he were used to it, or even _approved_ of it.  And his demeanor towards being confronted by a large body of armed killers was complete indifference.  He held himself surely, coolly, not intimidated.  And then there was his killing of Caloklic.  Why had he done it? It wasn't his fight. He had had no stake in the matter.  To impress her? No, she immediately dismissed the thought.  This was a man who felt he needed to impress no one, of that Callisto was sure.  So then, cold blood.

            So here was a man, indolently lounging in a blood bath, killing for pleasure, and seemingly unconcerned by her approach.  She was fascinated by the spectacle.  She had never met anyone like him, in either looks or demeanor.

            As she drew up to him, the man stuck out his hand.

            "Joker's the name, larceny's the game."

***

"Uhhhhhhh…" Robin grabbed his head, which at the moment felt as though it was going to explode.

            What happened? Still holding his head, Robin slowly opened his eyes.  While he didn't know what he expected, being in the middle of a dirt path running through what looked to be a forest was not it.

            Gingerly getting to his feet, Robin freed some aspirin from his utility belt and swallowed them.  Having done what he could for his head, he set about figuring out where and _when he was.  Robin was bright; he realized that after the explosion he'd blacked out, then when he woke up he was somewhere he shouldn't be.  It didn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together._

            He was on a path that ran in two directions.  From the look of things, traffic was fair both ways, so one being as good as another, he chose east.

            He hadn't gotten very far when he heard someone coming around a bend up ahead.  He froze.  It just occurred to him to question what he should do when encountering someone.  He had no real idea at what point in time he had landed.  He could be anywhere from one to one thousand years in the past.  He could end up meeting anyone from a Dutch colonist to a caveman.  The travesties that could result were rife.  

            Quickly coming to a decision, the Boy Wonder ducked behind a rock to the side of the path.  From here he could secret himself and observe who was coming, and maybe get an idea of where and when he was.

***

            Gabrielle rounded the bend in high spirits, swinging her pack, singing (slightly off key) about adventure and the open road.

            Robin watched from behind his rock, taking her in with his eyes.

            She carried with her a staff.  This told Robin that there were many dangers around for one to have to arm themselves.  It also told him that there was no centralized government, no police force to depend on for protection.  And the weapon itself denoted a more primitive time period.  How primitive he couldn't be sure of until he had more information, but off the top of his head he'd guess anywhere from 2,000 BC to AD 1000.

            The girl's clothing didn't bear any distinguishing features, so he couldn't really make out _where_ he was. 

She must be a competent fighter, judging by her easy handling of the weapon and desire to travel a wooded, possibly criminal strewn, path by herself.  She was young, not more than four or five years older than himself, Robin would wager.

            She was inherently non-violent by nature, as evidenced by her weapon of choice, which pleased Robin.  He could see various objects which appeared to be paper scrolls poking out of her carry sack, which, by the way she was handling it, was her own.  That could mean she was an intellectual of some sort, which would fit in with the non-violent tendencies.

            Green 'sports bra', brown skirt, same colored boots… all very 'earthy' tones.  So while he couldn't mark her nationality from them, he could tell that she was a gentle person.  The cool colors fit in with the rest of the overall image.

            And by her decided stride, she obviously knew where she was going.  So, it was at that moment that he set about following her.  She'd eventually lead him to some sort of civilization, and he could go from there.

            Slipping out from behind the rock, he took to the forest, shadowing the girl.

***

            The village was in disarray.  Night had fallen, and the pale moon was helped in its luminescence by the fires that burned in the hulk that had once been a community.

            Women wailed, clutching their dead loved ones, rocking to and fro the way only the suffering do.  Children cried out for their parents, weeping pitifully, while dogs growled and fought over the flesh of what had once been their masters.

            It was this scene of brutality and horror that Xena found herself staring at from the edge of the meadow.

            Men stood in groups or singly, saying nothing, doing nothing.  As though they were some sort of puppets that, without anyone at the moment pulling their strings, had collapsed upon themselves, no more animated than the blackened spars of what had once been their homes.

            Callisto's reign of terror had already begun.  Xena clenched her teeth in impotent fury.  These people would never be the same.  Oh sure, in time they may rebuild their village, remarry, even have more kids, but they would be forever scarred.  The hurt they had sustained would never go away, the pain would be forever etched in their memories.

            An inarticulate rage swept over Xena.  If only she had been here, if only Callisto hadn't escaped, if only she herself had never visited Cicera…  The thoughts of self-blame only fueled the fire.  In such a state she could not think clearly.  She only wanted to lash out at the perpetuators of this heinous crime.  To atone for herself in some measure by beating on them.

            It was in the midst of this clouded thinking that she saw a shadowy figure at the periphery of the village, bending over, poking around stuff.  Scavengers.  Dirty rotten scavengers.   Men who would go among the dead to take what they could that was of value.  Men who made their living at the expense of the misfortune of others.

            Incensed, she strode towards him boldly, the glare of the fires behind her lending a sinister corona to her outline.  But so immersed in his activity was he, that the man didn't notice Xena until she was upon him.

            He let out a startled squawk as he was hauled roughly to his feet.

            "Wha—what—" The rest of the sentence was snatched from his throat by the slap across his face.

            Tasting blood in his mouth, the man looked frantically at his assailant.

            "What are you—" Xena slammed the man into a tree. The tree reverberated with the impact.

            The terror in his eyes held no solace for Xena.  The aggression, the guilt, the suffering she felt unleashed itself in wave after unrelenting wave.

            Above the laments of the villagers, none could hear the slap of flesh upon flesh as Xena struck savagely at the man.  He was already nearing unconsciousness while Xena was just getting warmed up.

            She slammed him into the tree again, jolting him to alertness.  She was beyond rational thought at this point; she wanted only to assuage the pain she felt in her soul.  The scavenger was only the trigger for the release of her pent-up frustrations.  The trigger, and the target.

            She was about to hit him some more when a voice sounded from the night:

            "Stop."

            Xena whirled around, the man forgotten.  She could make out only the vaguest of man-shaped forms.  The scavenger's partner? A returning raider?

            "This isn't your fight." She turned back to the scavenger and backhanded him.  It was then that she could sense the stranger reaching for her.  In one quick movement she released the scavenger and spun around to slash at the specter.  Only her arm whistled harmlessly through mere air.

            Surprise flickered across her features for the briefest instant before she collapsed to her knees, the wind driven out of her.  Gasping for breath, she saw the stranger clearly for the first time.

            He wore a cape, that much Xena could make out.  That, and he seemed to be wearing a mask of some sort. It looked like the cowl ended with two points at the top, like ears almost.  The rest was turned away from her as he bent over the scavenger.

            Having assured himself of whatever it was he'd been occupying himself with, he left the scavenger to come stand in front of Xena.

            But in the brief reprise she'd been able to recover herself, and when the masked man stopped in front of her, she acted.  With lighting speed, she knocked the legs out from underneath her would-be foe.  Having him at an equal advantage, she leaped at him, only to see the man roll away and get to his feet in one deft move.  Following suit, Xena eyed her opponent coolly, sizing him up.

            Six-two, six-three, athletic build.  The cape would be a liability, she noted academically as they circled each other.  Or at least she was circling _him.  He was just turning on his heel, watching her as intently as she was him.  Perhaps more so.  A cry tearing from her lips, Xena initiated combat._

            A quick left jab was blocked even as the man's other hand came at Xena's head.  Dodging, she barely avoided the blow while bringing up an elbow to the stranger's face.  No sooner did impact seem imminent, than the figure's head snapped back, missing the attack by centimeters.

            Slightly off balance by the miss, Xena felt a crushing pain in her lower ribs as an open handed thrust hit home.  Grunting at the pain, she reversed her momentum and swung her elbow back the way it had come, and while it missed again, the knee she brought up didn't, slamming home into the solar plexus. She was rewarded by the grunt it elicited.

            But before she could capitalize, the man took advantage of his doubled up position and body tackled her.  Then, using Xena's prone form to catapult himself into a summersault, ended up landing on his feet.

            He had already turned around and was waiting by the time Xena stumbled up.  Open handed, he just stood there, as implacable as ever.  Eyeing him more warily, Xena launched another attack.

            Block, block, thrust, parry; they were a blur as Xena pressed the offensive, ever backing up the caped figure.  Snapping out a kick, Xena felt nothing but air, then the next second she felt nothing at all as the outstretched limb went numb.  Inhaling with shock, she tumbled to the ground.  Frantically, she looked for her opponent, only to see him standing nearby, the same complacent look on his face.  He had no intention of attacking her while she was down.

            Had she been thinking straight, that would have set off bells in her head, but as it was, her wounded pride was foremost on her mind.  Grimly, she jabbed at her leg, hitting the specific pressure points needed to restore the flow of blood.  

            So, he knew pressure points.  Definitely not your common thug.  An assassin then? Could Callisto have known she would be through here and had this guy waiting? She shook her head, both to clear it and to banish the thought.  No, that wasn't Callisto's style.  She wanted Xena herself.  But whoever he was, one thing was for sure.  He was going down.

            Hoping she'd had time to cool down, the mysterious man addressed her, palms upraised.

            "I don't want to fight…"

            "Too late for that buster!" she snarled, cutting off whatever else he was going to say.  Xena went into full attack mode.

            She'd never seen anyone like him.  He was without a doubt the best fighter she'd ever met.  Regardless of what she did, no matter how spectacular the move or difficult the counter, he kept pace.

            Up, over, around and through the clearing they fought.  But for every shot Xena managed to land, the stranger landed two of his own.

            Ducking a kick, Xena tried for a foot sweep.  But he flipped in mid air, landing upright, negating the desired result of the move and struck out a foot of his own at Xena's midriff, which landed with a resounding "Offfph!"

            But she blocked the palm seeking her face that followed, and threw out a punch of her own.  However, the next moment her gut was giving her fits again by having an elbow jammed into it.

            So it went on, a match of martial arts prowess the likes of which the world had seldom seen.  Xena had learned many styles and many tricks traveling the world.  From Egypt to Chin, from Britannia to Rome, she had wandered.  And all these came fully to bear against the strange-eyed man before her.

            Thinking to gain the advantage, Xena sought to take the fight up into the trees.  But even as she let out her war cry and back flipped into the branches, her erstwhile 'partner' was nowhere to be seen.

            Startled, she looked back to the ground where she had left him: not there.  Looking about the tree, she came up fruitless as well.

            It was only her keen hearing that gave her time to dodge to the side, avoiding the metal disk by mere inches.  But it was enough to set her off balance, forcing her to correct herself by leaping to the ground.  

Coming up on both feet, Xena was rocked by a foot impacting into the side of her head.

            Caught off guard, it was followed up with a blow to the middle that bent Xena double.  And it was all topped off with a wasp-like movement to the neck, which Xena, dimly through the pain, recognized was a nerve pinch.

            The last thing she saw before blacking out was the masked face of her opponent hovering over her.

            "Who…  are…  you…?" She managed to croak out.

            She wasn't sure if it was the thunder and lighting that struck just then, distorting his words or not, but what he said would ring through her brain while she slept.

            "I am…  Batman."


	13. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

            As the hours grew into days, the Joker integrated himself more and more into Callisto's band, until his utter ruthlessness impressed her enough to appoint him second-in-command.  It was a meteoric rise, unprecedented.  And the fact was not lost on the Clown Prince of Crime.  

            This was his kind of woman! Never had he met such a complete match for his own depravity.  In fact, so close were they to each other that it was almost scary, even to him.

            Ho, ho, Harley would be jealous, he thought with mirth.  And with good reason - he had begun to feel the stirrings of things he long thought dead.

            In some sick, twisted way, the two were drawn to one another.  Something about their mutual perversity sparked a grotesque parody of developing feelings between the two.

            Not trusting each other for a moment, yet revealing innermost 'hurts'.  Incapable of love, yet 'feeling' for one another.  Solitary by nature, but always together.  Two peas in a twisted, blackened pod.  Perhaps even monsters may know 'love' of a sort?

            Lovers/enemies/together/autonomous, they rode at the head of the band of cutthroats.  Whatever their relationship, it was one of some sort.

            The similarities between the two were astounding.  The people they blamed their current lot in life on also happened to be their bitterest enemies.

            Xena, Callisto maintained, was the one who had slaughtered her village, killing her family and making her the woman she was today.

            While the Joker couldn't go back that far, it was the combination of losing _his loved ones with being caused to fall into a vat of chemicals by Batman that made the Joker the man he was today.  Both mentally and physically._

            Both reveled in bloodshed, and took delight in others' suffering.

            And most of all, both were considered by the rest of society to be totally, utterly, irrevocably, insane.  A title they wore like a badge.  Hard knocks in life had broken them; they had allowed their anger and sorrow to overwhelm their better nature, banishing it to the very furthest corners of their minds.  They had let madness in, and embraced it. So similar not only to each other, but to the people they branded as the cause of it all.  But whereas they had pushed back the darkness, Callisto and the Joker had not.

            So it was with the most unholy of matrimonies that the two rained down on hapless villages with fire and steel.  Unchecked, and unchallenged.  But Callisto assured the Joker that that would change soon.  That 'Xena' would find them: all they had to do was wait.

            That was fine with the Joker, because he had all the time in the world…

***

            He'd been following the girl for an hour before they came upon a town or village of some sort.  Slipping from shadow to shadow, Robin took stock of the situation.

            From the writing on the signs denoting the merchants' stalls, he was now reasonably sure that he was in Greece.  Ancient Greece obviously, but just how ancient he couldn't tell yet.

            Now that he'd assessed that he truly wasn't in his era anymore, the implications began to hit him.

            What was he going to do? He was stuck in the past with no way to get home.  He didn't know how to build a time machine, and even if he did, he doubted the materials he needed existed in this time.

            "Whoa, whoa," he told himself, taking deep breaths.  Can't let the fear take over, he had to keep a clear head about this, had to say focused.  What would Batman do in a situation like this?

            Batman.  And what about him? For the first time, the Boy Wonder wondered what had become of his mentor.

            If he, Robin, had survived the blast, it was fair to assume that Batman might have as well.  But had he been thrown through time as well, or was he still back in Gotham? Either scenario left him with options.

            If Batman were back in Gotham, he'd be working on a way to rescue Robin right now, so all he had to do was sit tight.

            If Batman had instead been thrust into the past, then Robin could try contacting him, though there was no guarantee that they'd ended up in the same age.

            And even if Batman were in the past as well, there'd still be people working to bring them home.  Once they realized the Dynamic Duo hadn't died in the explosion, they'd put two and two together and come get them somehow.

            So with all these options, there was no reason to panic.  Robin calmed down, once more the no-nonsense partner of the Bat.

            It was while mulling over what to do next that Fate chose for him.

            "—And one of those." Gabrielle said, indicating a jar on the upper shelf.  Handing over the dinars, she completed the transaction.

            She'd wanted some scented oil for a while now.  If she was going to pamper herself, she might as well go the whole way.  Putting the jar carefully in her carry case, she headed across the village square in search of the 'Great White Bargain'.

            Just then, a large group of men emerged from the tavern across the way.  Loud and roughhousing with one another, they reeked of cheap ale and nuts.  Rowdy and in high spirits, they were just as obviously drunk.

            Singing snatches from half forgotten songs, and leaning on each other for support, Gabrielle watched as they made their way across the square.  

            Drunken men plus provocation equals bad news. Gabrielle knew this as well as anyone, and keeping it in mind, hurried her steps so as not to get in their way.  But the elderly couple shuffling along was not so quick.  While trying to not make eye contact, they were too slow to miss detection by the men.

            "'Ey, lookee 'ere!" One of the drunkards said, pointing to the old folks.  "Eggs!"

            Indeed, the couple was carrying between them several baskets full of eggs to be sold at the market.  Stumbling over, one of the men grabbed a basket, upsetting its contents.

            "Lemmee see that!" he said, trying to wrestle the basket from the old man's hands.

            "Leave it alone, yer great gallopn' grub! Get yer mitts offa our eggs!"

            "Hey, lighten up mister," another man said, coming up from behind.  "We're just hav'n some fun."

            "Hey, lookit me!" One of the men had grabbed a handful of eggs and started juggling them.  However, in his current condition the coordination just wasn't there, and the end result were several broken eggs littering the ground.

            "Now look 'ere you—"

            "Can it pops," The old man was shaken roughly.

            Forcibly, the couple was divested of their load, and was being increasingly roughhoused.

            Gabrielle had seen enough.  It was obvious no one else was going to help them, and while there were ten of them and one of her, she just couldn't let them do this.  It wasn't right.

            So, acting more bravely than she felt, Gabriele resolutely made her way towards the knot of men.

            Determinedly gripping her staff, Gabrielle barked out in her best Xena impression, "Hey! Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

            "Beat it girlie," was the dismissive response.

            Now Gabrielle didn't have to imagine Xena to steel herself, she was peeved.

            "Hey!" She squeaked out.  "I'm talking to you.  Drop those eggs."

            The man who had spoken before pointedly dropped the basket he was holding, splattering the contents on the ground.

            "Oh, that was mature…"

            "Get lost," the man said again.  "'Afore we decide we likes _your_ eggs better."  Laughing, the group increased their shoving.

            "I'm warning you, leave them alone!"

            Turning back to her, the man advanced, a leer on his face.  "Whatcho gonna do?"

            Reacting, Gabrielle lashed out with her staff, catching the man in the face.  She followed it up by using the other end to sweep his legs out from under him, watching him fall with a satisfying 'thunk'.

            "'Ey!" The couple forgotten, the men moved in on Gabrielle en masse.

            The first clutched at his stomach, while the man next to him had his head rocked back, courtesy of the bard's staff.  Arms, legs, nothing was safe as Gabrielle lit into the group.  Their howls of laughter quickly became cries of pain.

            But while she was determined and skilled, there was something to be said for raw numbers.  It wasn't too long before someone grabbed her staff.  And while trying to wrestle it back, someone deftly pinned her arms to her sides.  But before they could do anything, the men were set upon by another maelstrom of fury.

            Robin had seen enough.

            Releasing his collapsible Bo staff, the Boy Wonder had crossed the distance and went at the thugs.  A whirlwind of red and green, he laid the men low left and right.  No sooner did one see his compatriot kneel over in pain, than he himself was popped upside the head.

            Taking advantage of their momentary distraction, Gabrielle wrenched free of the grip that held her and managed to grab back her staff.  Thus armed, she made to imitate the stranger, and once more thwacked about.

            Working from opposite ends, the dynamic duo tore through their foes like a thresher through wheat.  Bo and staff lashed out to inflict much needed, and far overdue, justice.            

            Ducking, Robin avoided a punch, and using the end of his Bo, he struck at the man's gut, being rewarded by the "oomph!" of air rushing from lungs.  Then, using him as leverage, Robin hauled the man from his feet and sent him flying through the air to crash into his comrades.

            Gabrielle whirled around from dispatching yet another opponent only to find none left.  All around them, men were groaning in pain.  It was only then that Gabrielle got a good look at her ally.

            She had seen many a strange thing in her short association with Xena, but never had Gabrielle beheld anything quite like the figure before her.

            She was startled to see that her would be savior was a boy, even younger than she was.  But this surprise was shadowed by incredulity at his manner of dress.

            Bright red and green stared out at Gabrielle.  She'd never seen anything so colorful in her life.  He looked like some bizarre refuge from a traveling carnival, what with the red breast, green tights, and mask.  And then there was the belt and cape…  In fact, the more she looked at him, the more Gabrielle thought he resembled a bird, like a robin.

            Not only that, but he carried a staff like her.  And judging from things, he was as good, or even _better with it than she was.  The thought caused a brief flicker of annoyance._

            Not quite sure what to say to the stranger, Gabrielle decided on the straight tack.  Sticking out her arm she introduced herself.

            "I'm Gabrielle, thanks for, uh, helping out." She finished awkwardly.

            "Looked like you didn't need any," Robin replied, sensing both Gabrielle's and his own unease.

            He then took the proffered hand, not arm, and shook it.  Gabrielle was intrigued by the deviation of greeting.

            "Yeah, well, it looks like you didn't do so badly yourself," she said, looking around once more at the groaning heaps of people.

            A long silence ensued as each tried to think of something to say when finally Gabrielle blurted out, "Who are you?"

***

            When she had come to, Xena found herself in the ruins of a half burned hut, being tended to by an old woman without the benefit of teeth.  Confused, she couldn't understand how she'd gotten there.  But when she looked around, it all came back to her.

            The burned out village, the scavenger, the mysterious stranger, the ensuring fight, and finally the moonlit image of the man hovering over her.

            She was both chagrinned and puzzled.  Embarrassed because she had lost the fight and puzzled because by all rights she should be dead.

            The man's skills had equaled her own; he had even used a nerve pinch to put her down.  And yet it hadn't been a killing blow.  He had spared her life.  The million-dinar question now was 'why'?

            He had said at the outset that he hadn't wanted to fight - that much Xena remembered through the rage filled haze she had felt.  If he truly hadn't wanted to fight, then it would make sense for his not wanting to kill her.  But then, why had he spoken up for the scavenger? And what was he doing here to begin with? And most important of all, who _was_ he? 

            To that last question, Xena already knew the answer, or at least some version of it. He had called himself 'Batman' - that Xena distinctly remembered.  And a 'Batman' he had been, she realized.

            The pointed 'ears' of his hood, the flowing cape simulating a bat's wings, the primarily dark colors.  Even his uncanny skills had been worked with the precision of a bat.  Yes, 'Batman' perfectly described the man.

            Now the question remained as to what this 'Batman' had been doing so near to one of Callisto's recently destroyed villages.

            Asking around, Xena had been astonished to learn that this 'Batman' had carried her into the village.  Leaving her with the inhabitants, he proceeded to ask in great detail what had happened here.  The fact that his departure led the same way as Callisto's horde did nothing to assuage her suspicions.  But the far more important thing was to catch up with Callisto.  The mystery of the Batman would just have to wait.

            Getting her gear together, and thanking the villagers for taking care of her, Xena rounded up Argo and started back out onto the trail.

***

            Batman had been impressed by the woman's remarkable skill, the possession of which puzzled him.

            From the speech and dress, he'd been able to deduce that he had been thrust into ancient Greece.  And by the position of the stars in the night sky, he'd been able to ascertain that he was in 46/47 BC, give or take a couple of years.

            Now how does a Greek woman from 46 BC learn skills and acquire weapons from such diverse regions as China and India?

            A rare woman it was indeed to have bucked the sociological trends of the day to gain access to, and receive training from, those people and institutions she would have had to learn certain of her fighting skills from.  

For instance, to his day the Asians were insular about teaching their fighting arts to the 'Qui-Lo'.  Everything from her era, to her ethnicity, to her gender would have been working against her.

The villagers hadn't recognized her, nor did they know what she was there for.  The man he'd saved from a beating turned out to be a scavenger of some sort, looting the dead.  Disgusted, Batman had turned him over to the villagers.

As it was, the mysterious woman remained the least of Batman's problems.  Now that he knew where and _when _he was, there remained but three questions.

1. Where had the Joker ended up?

2. Where had Robin ended up?

3. How were they (he) to get back home?

He had an idea about number one, which may or may not have a bearing on number two.  As for number three, he'd worry about that when the time came.

When he'd seen the condition of the village the night before, he'd been naturally concerned.  It seems a warlord of some sort had been through the day before, raping, killing, and pillaging all in their path.

But it was an odd remark that made his already concerned features sharpen.  One of the oldsters had mentioned something about a crazily dressed man laughing through it all.  It stood out with the oldster for its perverse impropriety.

When asked to elaborate, Batman got a picture that seemed all too familiar.  The people said it was almost as if he were a mockery of life, just as he mocked the death he dealt out.  

While his lips were red, they were _too_ red.  While his face white, _too white.  And his hair, not red or brown or black or blond, but _green_.  And his clothes, bright, bright as the violets they grow in fields._

But it was his laugh, that horrible, insidious laugh that haunted them the most.  Mocking, reveling in the slaughter.  That was a sound they would take with them to their graves.

Batman now had no doubt as to where the Joker had ended up.  And if both himself and the Joker were here, that boded well for Robin's whereabouts as well.  In that case, all that remained was to capture the Joker, find Robin, and figure out a way to get back to their own time.

Robin could handle himself, and there was time enough to think of a way back.  The priority at the moment was in apprehending the Joker before any more innocent lives were lost.

Judging by the eyewitness accounts, he'd hooked himself into a roving gang of murderers, and what was more, if the distraught victims were correct, then he not only rode with them, but had insinuated himself into some sort of leadership position.

Batman would have to be careful.  He was in hostile territory, in a time not of his choosing.  Slipping through the woods like a shadow, he went forth to face his destiny.


	14. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Callisto had lain back exhausted.  She hadn't had an orgasm like that since the first time she'd killed a man.  She'd been served by many men throughout the years, and had even gotten to know her sword in new and creative ways, but she'd never felt the same intensity as she had with the Joker.

            The bedroll was soaked.  And for his part, the Joker had curled up, sleeping it off, twitching occasionally.  

            She rose, heedless of the fluids that ran down her leg.  Washing herself off, she got dressed.  Opening the tent flap, she left the Joker as he was.

            Outside, she saw her growing legion of cutthroats going through their various early morning rituals.

            Making her way to a cook fire, she'd already finished her breakfast before the Joker came up, bleary eyed and rumpled.

            Mumbling something about it being an unnatural hour, he sat down to grab a bowl of gruel.

            "And what's on today's agenda?" He asked around a mouthful of porridge.

            "We keep going westward," Callisto took out her dagger, toying with it lightly, idly pointing out the direction.  "Right until we hit the sea."

            "Then what?" The Clown Prince of Crime queried.

            "We go back the way we came." She grinned maliciously as the Joker began to laugh.

            "I like the way you think!"

            This was turning out to be a most profitable partnership, the Joker admitted to himself.  And he simply _must learn how she did that thing with her tongue…_

***

            Robin was well aware of the paradoxes that could result were people of this era privy to advanced information.  And keeping that in mind, he had told Gabrielle that he came from a 'far off land out over the sea', which in fact _was_ the truth, if not the whole truth.

            As to what he was doing here; he fabricated a rather shaky cover story of his ship having been swept off course in a storm, and ending up shipwrecked on this 'strange land'.  And while Gabrielle may have still harbored her doubts, by and large she accepted the tale.

            But Robin was soon to learn the unbridled curiosity of a bard intrigued.

            She peppered him with questions of how long he'd been roaming after the shipwreck, why he was dressed the way he was, if anyone knew where he'd been going… on and on she went, just brimming with eagerness.

            Robin found himself hard pressed to give the vaguest answers possible, yet still satisfy the young woman.

            How long had he been alone? Weeks.  Why hadn't he contacted anyone before? He wasn't sure if the natives were friendly.  Why was he dressed this way? It was the custom of his land.  Did anyone know he was gone? Possibly. 

            By the time the sun began to set, Robin had learned two things.  One, he _was_ in ancient Greece.  And two, where he was in Greece.  More specifically, the particular town and region.  From these two things he now had a bearing.

            Belatedly, Gabrielle looked around to realize that night was coming upon them fast.  Sheepishly, she lay off talking.

            "So, where are you sleeping?"

            "I…  hadn't really thought about it," Robin replied truthfully.

            "And being shipwrecked, you wouldn't have any money…" Gabrielle furrowed her brow as she thought.

            "Well, only one thing to do," She brightened up cheerfully, "we'll camp out.  Not as _comfortable_ as an inn mind you, but it'll do."

            Robin was amiable to the idea.  Unless something changed, all he _could_ do was wait about until someone came and got him.  So, following his newfound friend's lead, he traipsed out of town just into the forest beyond.

            Unpacking her things, Gabrielle pulled out a spare blanket for her new companion.

            "We'll figure out what to do about you in the morning." She sounded much more enthusiastic about the idea than Robin felt.

            Bundled up, and tucked in for the night, they had settled down to sleep when Gabrielle suddenly turned to Robin, embarrassment written all over her face.

            "I almost forgot! What's your name?"

            "Just call me Robin."

            "Robin," she repeated.  Just like the bird after all.

***

            Batman had long since shucked his cape and cowl for peasant's garb.  No one would question a lone traveler with a sack over his shoulder.  A conveniently placed wash line had given him the items he needed.

            It was while traveling under cover, as he had been for the past few days, that he had gained more information on the current whereabouts of the Joker.

            It would seem that he _had _joined a roving warlord band, one led by a recently escaped criminal by the name of Callisto.  This Callisto's reputation rivaled that of even the Joker's, a fact that deeply disturbed Batman.

            From the sounds of things, this warlord gang was turning more into an army, with the constant addition of new recruits.  What was worse, to Batman's mind, was that from what he could glean, the Joker had indeed insinuated himself into some kind of authority position.  Reports had him riding at the head of the mob, a co-leader of some sort with this Callisto.

            The Joker alone was enough to make seasoned men wet their pants.  But teamed up with a female version of himself? That thought gave even the Batman a momentary chill.

            It wouldn't be a simple snatch and grab like he'd hoped.  The Joker would be surrounded by an army of thugs, not to mention in cohoots with an ally.

            But the first item on the agenda was to catch up with him as soon as possible.  And the best way to do that was on horseback. So it was that when an innkeeper entered his stables that next morning, he noticed a horse missing.

            Now mobile, Batman set off at a gallop, tracking down the Joker's trail.

***

            As Xena pressed on, she saw more and more of Callisto's handiwork.  The atrocities brought back memories, not only of Callisto's former raids, but her _own_ in years past.

            It was that indelible link, the fact that had it not been for Xena there would be no Callisto, and thereby no massacre here, that haunted her still.  Like a shadow that disappears when looked at straight on, it clung to the periphery of Xena's mind.  Ever just out of reach, but still close enough to tease.

            She mumbled consolations; listened stolidly to the accounts; pledged vengeance, just as she had done a dozen times before.  Always the same.  The people changed, but the faces… the faces always wore the same mask of sorrow.  Of loneliness.  Of pity.

            Xena ran through the motions like one who has learned something by route.  She mouthed the words and touched the heads, and then she was off again, off to another ravaged village, the same words, the same deeds.  Always the same.  Always late.

            The more she rode, the deader she became.  She just pressed on now.  Pressed on to the inevitable meeting.

            And yet, through the fog of self-hatred, through the curtain of despair, she retained some spark.  Buried perhaps, drowned under the loathing she felt for herself, but still there nevertheless.

            Whatever sins she may have committed, Callisto was now part of them.  And for good or ill, Xena would see to it that it was rectified.  One way or another, Xena would purge herself.


	15. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

            "And then—"

            "Let me guess," Robin interrupted, "Xena saved the day?"

            "How did you know?" Gabrielle's surprise shone on her face.

            Robin just laughed.  He'd heard a _lot about Xena in the last couple of days._

            How Xena did this, when Xena did that, what Xena did here, etc, etc.  He was bemused.  This Xena led as active a life as Batman did.  In fact, the parallels between the two struck Robin as being uncanny.  Being privy as he was to Batman's past, he was in a position to make the comparisons.

            Both Bruce Wayne and Xena had lost loved ones when they were young.  Bruce had seen his parents gunned down in front of him.  Xena's brother, and most of her village, had fallen to the sword of a warlord.  Both were plagued by feelings of guilt, feelings that they could have done something more, something different.

            Both had embarked upon trips around the world, learning all they could about the fighting arts, and sundry other talents. Both used fear and intimidation to cower their foes.  And as such, both required the restraining influence of a 'sidekick' in their lives to keep their darker sides in check.  A light to balance the dark.

            They even dressed similarly, in primarily dark colors.  And they both had their distinctive symbols:  for Xena the chakram, for Batman the Batarang.

            The more Robin heard of Xena, the more he was amazed.  But he kept all this to himself as he walked along with Gabrielle, listening to more of her tales.

            It had been only a couple of days, but he had begun to form an opinion of this highly chatty, and slightly older, girl.

            It was obvious that she'd led a pretty sheltered life until about a year ago.  And she herself admitted the fact.  She said her life hadn't really begun until she'd started traveling with Xena.  To Robin's jaundiced eye, she was rather naïve.  And in a possibly bad way.

            While Tim had by no means been the worldliest of kids when he donned the Robin mantle, he'd held no illusions as to the nature of the job either.  He'd gone into this eyes wide open, knowing full well the sort of hard choices he might be forced to make some day, and the ordeals he might have to go through.

            Gabrielle, on the other hand, seemed blithely unaware, almost indifferent, to them.  And to Robin, that spelled a recipe for disaster.

            Both he and Gabrielle were costumed adventurers, and as such, Robin knew that in their chosen avocation things happen - sometimes very bad things.

            Death and maiming were common.  Relationships can break down, loved ones leave, friends become foes.  Hostages don't get rescued in time or antidotes are too late.  He could give a thousand instances where things go wrong, but all this went with the territory, and it was something most people knew when they put on the suit.

            Only, Gabrielle didn't - and no one had told her.  In Robin's opinion, she was ill equipped to handle it if something major happened.  The fact that nothing had yet was a miracle in itself.

            Gabrielle struck him as being extremely sensitive, and also blind to the realities of the situation she was in.  She went around with rose colored glasses on, so to speak, and one day those glasses would shatter and she'd have to face reality for the harsh fact that it could sometimes be. Unprepared, it would do her irreversible harm.

            It was like she was traveling down a path filled with pitfalls with her eyes closed, and only by some miraculous chance had she avoided falling down so far.  But the longer luck held out, the more devastating it would be when she finally fell.

            She was too gentle, too vulnerable, to endure the rigors and pitfalls of this business.  It took more than fighting skills and a naive sense of righteousness to be in 'the game'.  It took a complete understanding of what was at stake, and an ability to find within oneself the means to weather the storm.  He didn't think Gabrielle had that.  Oh, she might survive the 'rude awakening', but she'd never again be the same, of that Robin was sure.

            This Xena was partly to blame, Robin thought hotly.  As Gabrielle's mentor, it was her responsibility to instill these values and understandings in Gabrielle, but she hadn't. It seemed to Robin that she was _using_ Gabrielle in a way, keeping her as an embodiment of 'innocence' to draw from, while threatening the very thing itself in doing so.

            It was selfish to risk Gabrielle's mental health and well being just to satisfy one's wish fulfillment.  The longer Xena kept Gabrielle in the dark about the truths of their occupation, the closer she came to losing the very thing in the bard that she so cherished.

            Innocence without knowledge is naiveté.  And naiveté leads to suffering down the road.  For everybody. Gabrielle's situation was a time bomb waiting to explode.

            "Look," he finally said, after they'd stopped to make camp, their third night together.  "Do you know what you've gotten yourself into?"

            Sitting down on a nearby rock, Gabrielle frowned, "What do you mean?" 

            "About this," he indicated the camp, the woods around them, everything.  "Going around the countryside, 'righting wrongs and singings songs'. The risks involved."

            "Oh, those…" Gabrielle snorted.  "It's not like there's a warlord behind every tree.  And besides, Xena's taught me so much since I've been with her." Her eyes glistened with pride.

            "And I'm learning more every day.  Pretty soon I'll be able to take on whole armies." Grinning, she took her staff and pantomimed fending off a large host of foes.

            In her excitement, she overreached and tripped herself up.  Smiling sheepishly, she made her way back to her seat, none the worse for wear.  But to Robin, the display only exemplified just how 'green' and unprepared Gabrielle was.

            This wasn't a game, the way of life they had chosen.  If you weren't cut out for it, you'd get killed - or worse.  Frustrated, he let the subject drop.  But it would not be the last time he broached it.

            "So, tell me more about yourself." Gabrielle requested, after they'd fed themselves and had begun to stare at the fire.

            "Me?" Robin responded.  "You could say I'm a kind of squire…" He'd decided he'd level with Gabrielle…  after a fashion.

            "'Squire'?" She mulled over the unfamiliar word.

            "A sort of friend-slash-confidant-slash-helper to a knight."

            "Knight?" Again, the bard's features screwed up in puzzlement.

            "A kind of warrior."

            At that, Gabrielle's face lit up.  "Like me and Xena! Wow, really? 'Squire'…"

***

            The army had suddenly veered north for no apparent reason.  The development troubled Batman.  Up till now, it had appeared the Joker, and the mob he was keeping company with, were heading west, seemingly to the coast.

            But now they were headed north.  Why, he didn't know, but he'd follow them all the same.  He'd been able to make good time and was gaining ground.  It wouldn't be long until he caught up with them.  And then, he flexed his hand, the devastation he'd been witness to would end.

***

            Xena didn't know what to make of this most recent development.

            Callisto had been on a steady westward march across Greece, yet as of the last village she attacked, she had gone north.  Why north? There were richer pickings to the south and east.  Even her original westward trail held more opportunities.

            Xena couldn't think of what Callisto could want up north.  In fact, the only thing Xena could think of in that direction that was worth mention was…

            Xena's eyes widened in horror.

            "Gabrielle…" And with that half moan, half exclamation, she spurred Argo on to even greater speeds.

***

            He'd never been much of one with maps, so it wasn't till the afternoon that the Joker realized they had changed direction.  Urging his horse forward, he came to a trot beside Callisto.

            "I thought we were going west," he said, jerking a thumb in what he hoped was the right direction.

            "Change of plans," she replied coolly. "I recognized where we were, so we're heading north."

            "Not that it's any of my business," the Joker said ruefully, "but what's up north?"

            "The question is what will be."

            "Okay, I'll bite.  What 'will be' up north?"

            "Xena…"


	16. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

            "Amphipolis!" Gabrielle cried out, holding her arms aloft and spinning around.  People were already staring at them enough, Robin thought, no need to add to it.  But there was no denying Gabrielle. He'd learned that on the trip here.

            When he had keyed her into the (sometimes painful) realities of their line of 'work', she had blithely shrugged them off.  Her attitude had been, "What could happen with Xena around?" As long as they looked out for each other nothing could happen to them.

            While she took what he said seriously, it was plainly evident that she didn't believe it applied to _her_.  This attitude was maddening to Robin.  To think that the rules of your profession don't apply to you is suicide. The more he pushed, the more Gabrielle teased him as a worrywart.  It always ended the same way: Robin frustrated and Gabrielle laughing.

            Robin had tried to demur from entering population centers, but Gabrielle would hear none of it.  She was heading for Amphipolis and she sure as heck wasn't going to let him go back to wandering in the woods.  No, he'd come and stay at Cyrene's inn with her, and then they'd wait for Xena to get there, after which they'd all put their heads together and see if they couldn't come up with a solution to his problem.

            He'd tried to sound thankful, even relieved at the prospect.  But in reality what he _really needed to do was figure out some way to get in contact with Batman.  And failing that, see if he couldn't help out whomever was looking for him, if in fact anyone was._

            The _last thing he needed was to lie to even more people about his true situation.  But Gabrielle was insistent, and perhaps he might think of something with a steady meal and a room of his own._

            So he had journeyed and entered into Amphipolis.  Looking around, Robin was somewhat relieved.  While sizeable, it was little more than a town, no great metropolis.  The less people that noted him, the better.

            "Come on!" Grabbing Robin by the hand, Gabrielle pulled him along with her as she raced through the streets, barely avoiding innocent bystanders, until she came up to a stop in front of an inn.

            "We're here!" The bard beamed triumphantly.

            "'Here' where?"

            "Cyrene's Inn!" Opening the door, Gabrielle stepped inside, Robin following her.

            He had to admit, it was a cheery enough place.  Airy and clean, it smelled of fresh cider and apple chips.

            "Gabrielle!" Robin turned at the voice to see a woman come over and embrace the blonde haired bard.  He assumed this was Cyrene.

            "And who's your friend?" She appraised Robin with a half-amused, half-wondering eye.

            "This is Robin," Gabrielle said, reaching out to touch the Boy Wonder.  "I'll tell you all about him later.  But first, we're starving, is there anything to eat?" 

            Laughing, Cyrene led them to an empty table and went to get some food.

            "You'll love Cyrene," Gabrielle whispered confidentially.  "She's great."

            "So, that's Xena's mom?" Robin asked, making sure he remembered right.

            "You bet."

            When Cyrene had returned with the food and drinks, Gabrielle relayed the message Xena had sent.

            "Xena may be a couple of days late, she was tracking down something and told me to let you know."

            "Well, that _is_ convenient.  Now I know not to make up her room for a few days yet.  Now, what about your rooms? Or is that 'room'?" Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

            Gabrielle flushed while Robin's eyes widened slightly.

            "Cyrene! Two rooms will do fine!"

            "Just making sure." The proprietor added impishly.

            With that she went off to prepare their rooms, leaving the two to eat in peace.

            While they were digging in, a group of men entered, stamping the dirt of the trail off themselves like great shaggy yaks. Coming out from the back, Cyrene greeted them.

            "Can I help you?"

            "Yeah," the lead man rumbled.  "Me'n my crew need some rooms for the night.  You'z got any?"

            "Sure do," she smiled.  "You'll be on the second floor.  Supper is served at eight, and lunch is going on right now if you'd care for some."

            Grunting, the leader gestured the group to a table.

            Throughout all this Gabrielle had the strangest feeling.  She had naturally looked up when they came in, but something had held her attention. Now she found herself staring at them while they ate, trying to figure out what it was that seemed so familiar about them. 

            At one point, one of them caught her looking over.  "Got a problem?"

            "No." Quickly, Gabrielle looked back at her food, while Robin looked at her quizzically.

            That one barked sentence served to clarify Gabrielle's thoughts and open up her memory. Of course, this was the same group of men she had accidentally bumped into some days back.  Pleased to have placed their faces, she focused on her meal with gusto.  Funny though, a distracted part of her mind thought, to run into them again here.

***

            Whatever was up north, they were in a hurry to get to it, Batman mused, while following the ever-increasing tracks.  And if they were in that much of a rush to get there, it seemed an ill omen for their destination.

            By his estimation, they were only a day or so ahead of him.  If he kept on through the night, he should reach them sometime before noon tomorrow.  With an even greater sense of urgency, he sped on.

***

            They were close now.  Xena could practically smell the unwashed horde that lay but a day's ride ahead of her.  If she kept at this pace they should be in sight by noon the next day.

            Soon it would all be over.  Soon…

***

            She'd sent riders ahead to check out the place, they should be back in a couple of days.  In the meanwhile, there was a nearby village just waiting to be ravished.  After all, she didn't want her men to get rusty, not when their ultimate goal was within reach.

            The village tomorrow, then the day after that…  Xena.

            The warrior princess would have figured out Callisto's scheme, and understood where she was heading.  Xena was sure to be there.  Then…  Then old debts would be paid.


	17. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

            Dawn was just breaking over the horizon when he saw them.  A vast, malevolent black patch, obscuring the otherwise newly lit ground, almost as if the sun was reluctant to cast its brilliant rays upon such a motley crew.

            Easily forty, fifty men mounted on horseback.  About what he'd figured.  

            The object of their attention was a sleepy little village that, from the look of the adjacent area, relied upon agriculture as their chief source of income.  Little more than a curious glance could tell one that there would be no rich pickings here.  Not even worth notice. Yet the band still struck.  Violence for its own sake.

            Batman could feel the bile rising in his throat.  But that was good, it fanned the fire, the fire that had burned in his soul since that day as a child when he had witnessed the murder of his own parents.  The fire that sustained him in his never-ending battle against the terror men loosened upon the world.

            It has been asked what can be done by one man, when instead it should be asked what can _not_ be done by but a single man.  Bruce Wayne possessed no special powers, held no magical objects, knew not what the future may hold, was not unlike any other man, yet he had altered the world around him.

            Some might belittle the feat as temporary, transient.  But is not the life of man transient? And does its lack of 'permanence' somehow preclude the good accomplished? Is not a 'temporary' answer to a 'temporary' problem the best that can be asked for?

            These quandaries and more assailed that deep inner part of the Dark Knight's mind as he dismounted at the village's outer edge and slid into the erupting chaos.

***

            In the emerging daybreak Xena saw the smoke before its cause.

            Xena's mind was blank; all that she knew was that Callisto was here, and that the endgame had come.

            The looting had already begun when, with a war cry, Xena somersaulted from Argo's back into the midst of the storm.

***

            She had noticed the warrior princess before anyone else.  Noted her progress from a black dot on the horizon to an ever-larger smudge, to finally a fully formed figure bursting upon her men. She watched with fascinated glee at the skill and precision with which Xena was killing her men.  Watched with a rapturous expression as she saw her own men cut down. Her tongue flickered over her lips, and her hand twitched at the thought of taking cold hard steel and feeling it render flesh.  Her nostrils flared to catch a whiff of the odorous blood.

            Yes, Xena's assault made a beautiful counterpoint to the slaughter Callisto's men had embarked upon.

            But for its intensity, her survey of Xena was brief.  A disturbance elsewhere had drawn her attention.  Frowning, she turned away from the raven-haired goddess and tried to ascertain what was the matter.

***

            "_Crack!" The man dropped like a stone, his jaw shattered._

            Bodies lay all around as Batman's offensive continued.  And more were being added by the second.

            They hadn't seen him coming. Like chain lighting he struck one, then another, and another, and so on until no one knew where he was coming from.

            The left? No, no, the right.  Wait, he's over there.  No, he's over _there.  The confusion only served to hasten their plight, until pretty soon bedlam broke out._

            Being divided as it was, the host could not know two separate enemies were attacking them.  And even if they had, it would have done them no good.

            In the relative blink of an eye the hardened, terrifying brood had been reduced to various stages of running away.  But through it all, Batman had eyes for only one person…

***

            It had been the flash grenades that brought him up straight.

            Swiveling around, he saw the specter that gave even him, the Clown Prince of Crime, nightmares.  There, in the middle of the sound and fury was 'The Bat'.

            The 'how's' and 'wherefores' of the circumstance meant little to the Joker right then.  What mattered was getting as far away as fast as possible.

            The Joker little relished the idea of meeting the Bat without preparation.  Facing down the Batman with a host of machine gun toting minions at his back was one thing; taking him on with nothing more than guys with pointy metal sticks was quite another.

            He had already reigned his horse around when Callisto barred his way.

            "Going somewhere?"

            "Oh, nowhere in particular…" He looked over his shoulder anxiously.

            Callisto raised an eyebrow.  "Someone you know?"

            "It's the pointy eared freak that put me here!"

            Well now, that was interesting.  Over the time they'd spent together, the Joker had told Callisto all about himself and this 'Batman'.  His own personal 'Xena'.

            "So, if you don't mind, I'm getting out of here."

            "My dear sweet Joker," Callisto cooed, patting his face with her free hand.  "I thought you weren't afraid of the big black bat?"

            "Call it an aversion.  I'm allergic to winged rats, and here I am without my rodent repellant." He tried again, unsuccessfully, in moving his mount.

            "It would seem we have a common problem," Callisto said calmly, unfazed by the chaos.  "Neither of us are ready just yet to meet our 'significant other'." Releasing the Joker's horse, she swung her own around.

            "What about them?" The Joker jerked his thumb back at the outlaw mob, currently being trashed.

            "Does it matter?"

            "Not really."

            In the maelstrom, no one noticed the absence of two lone figures.


	18. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

            It had been a total rout.  A textbook example of 'relative superiority'.

            The raid had been broken up, but there was no sign of the Joker, or this 'Callisto'.  However, one important thing had come of it all: an ally.

            Of course, that had come _afterwards_.  So hectic had the skirmish been, that neither was aware of the other's presence until they met in the middle.

            Remembering their fight, and still unsure of the stranger's status, Xena made as if to attack him.  It was only Batman's laying low of a thug that intervened.  Seeing this, the warrior princess decided for the second time that she had more pressing matters.  For the moment at least, it seemed they were on the same side.

            Working together, they fought back against the already rapidly dispersing 'army'.  Once it was clear they were in retreat, Xena turned back towards Batman, guard raised warily.

            "All right, just who are you? And what's your game?"

            Ignoring the sword point, he looked Xena in the eyes.

            "Call me Batman."

            "Right.  And you can call me 'tiger-woman'. Out with it."

            Something resembling a smile crept in at the edges of his mouth.  He simply folded his arms.

            "Not telling eh?" But she was slightly mollified by the gesture.  One doesn't fold their arms at sword point if they mean trouble.

            "What do you have to hide?"

            "Plenty," was the flippant reply.  Xena couldn't help but find herself smirking.

            "Okay, different track.  What are you doing here?" her eyes narrowed, as if they could perceive if he told the truth or not.

            "Looking for someone."

            "Who?" Xena felt her hand tightening around the sword.

            "A man, dressed in purple and green, an escaped criminal."

            Xena had heard tales of just such a man riding with Callisto from the survivors of the villages she had stopped at.  That this man was a criminal was of no doubt.  That much of the stranger's story was true at least.

            They stood there in silence for a few moments, waiting to see if Xena would accept that.  Finally she did, and spoke again.

            "What do you intend to do once you catch up with him?"

            "Take him back."

            "'Back' where?"

            "My home land."

            "And where is this 'homeland'?"

            "Far."

            They stood looking at each other a few more seconds.

            "He's killed people you know."

            "I know." It seemed to Xena that, stoic as he was, this masked man was truly pained by the fact.  And that went a long way toward softening her feelings towards him.

            "Looks like we travel the same path," Xena said at last.  "I'm after someone too, so we don't have much time."  Briefly her eyes took on a faraway look, only to have it shattered as she roused herself for action.

            "I know where they're headed, come along if you want." Having made her decision to trust the stranger, Xena mounted up.  Looking back over her shoulder she saw that Batman had done the same.

            "Let's ride."

***

            It wasn't so much _what_ they did as it was the _way they did it that roused Gabrielle's suspicions._

            She'd been showing Robin around when she had noticed that same group of men she'd remembered the day before. Like her and Robin, they seemed to be out 'sight seeing'.  But there was just something in the way they were doing it that seemed out of place to the young bard.  It was almost like they were sizing the place up as opposed to just looking at things.  And that made her feel uneasy.

            When they ran into them for the fourth time, she'd decided to follow them.  Subtly of course.

            From then on, the 'sights' Gabrielle showed Robin happened to correlate with wherever that group of men was.  It wasn't long until she had her fears confirmed.

            To Robin's puzzlement, Gabrielle quickly pushed them both behind a wall and peeked out.  

            On their way out of town, and seemingly alone, the gang had decided to do a little 'shopping'.  Three fine horses stood tethered, their owners off somewhere or other.  Figuring Callisto could always do with a few good horses, and on their way back to camp anyway, they took it upon themselves to 'liberate' the beasts.

            Still unsure as to what was going on, Robin followed Gabrielle as she strode boldly and purposely towards the group.

            "Hold it!" She said, not changing her stride.

            The men looked towards her.

            "Those aren't your horses—"

            "Are they yers?"

            "Well, no…"

            "Then mind yer own bidness!" Turning away, they were about to leave before Gabrielle recovered.

            "Hey! You can't take those horses!"

            Slowly the men turned back around, and just as slowly dismounted.

            "Girlie," the lead man said, cracking his knuckles, "you done picked the wrong day ta be socially motivated…"

            If Robin had been confused before, there was no doubt now as to the situation.

            "You take the two on the right, I'll take the other three."

            "How about _you_ take the two on the right, and _I_ take the other three?"

            He was torn between admonishing her and smiling at her vigor.  Without further comment they rushed into battle.

            With a flying kick, Robin flattened the first man before he knew what hit him.  Capitalizing on their momentary pause, he shot out with his collapsible Bo and hit another thug upside the head.

            While he was busy doing that, Gabrielle had killed two birds with one stone, using the thugs' momentum against them by clotheslining them with her staff.  Two swift taps to the back of the head and they were nothing more than unmoving heaps.  With a satisfied nod, she surveyed her handiwork.

            By this time, Robin had already taken care of his two and was working on a third. Swinging his sword in an arc, the last remaining thug was trying to keep the Boy Wonder at a distance, hoping thereby to get to his horse and make his escape.  But the teen titan had other plans.

            Eyeing the arcing blade warily, Robin watched as the thug backed up.  Hand going to his utility belt, Robin withdrew a single round pellet. Still watching carefully, he dropped the pellet to the ground with seeming nonchalance.  The next moment, day turned into night.

            It was as though the sun had been ripped out of the heavens.  One second the thug could see the strangely clad young man before him, the next, nothing.  The thug was disoriented, to say the least.  And it was this disorientation that Robin was counting on. Not wasting any time, he raced into the inky darkness and disarmed his foe.  From there it was a simple matter to knock him out.

            Smoke bomb.  Simple, but effective.  Already the cloud was dispersing, allowing the sun to shine once more.

            With some small amount of pride, Robin turned back to Gabrielle to judge her reaction.  There was no way he could have been prepared for what he saw. With a knife to her throat, Gabrielle stood, in the steel-like grip of an older, taller, blond woman.

            And there, beside them, dressed in all his purple splendor, was the Joker.

            "Ha, ha! If it isn't the Boy Blunder!" His laugh set Robin's teeth on edge.

            "Joker…"

            "As you can see bird boy, your little friend is in a rather 'pointed' situation!" He fell into another reel of laughter.

            "Quit playing," Callisto interrupted, eliciting a frown from the Crown Prince of Crime.  

            "Yes, quite…  The first order of business I should think is dropping that cumbersome utility belt.  Truly beastly little gadget.  Slowly if you please…" The Joker warned.

            Slowly, and with great care, Robin complied.

            "Ha, one bird in the hand really is worth two bats in the bush!" Laughing hysterically, he led Robin away with them. 


	19. Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

            It was with extreme trepidation, and not a little bit of fear, that Xena entered Amphipolis. On the surface, everything seemed normal, but she knew that was just a thin veneer hiding the malignant evil that must reside within. 

            With determination, Batman followed her into the city.  The Joker was there.

            Slowly, they made their way through the city, garnering more than a few stares.  Cautiously they plodded, until they came upon a single building.

            "This is my mother's inn…" Xena said by way of explanation.

            Merely nodding, Batman dismounted, waiting for her to do so.

            For a moment longer she lingered, then with a deep breath she came down.

            Standing together, Xena opened the door and they stepped in.

            What greeted her was a picture of serenity and peace that remained unchanged from the last time she'd been here.

            The curtains, the chairs, the stairwell, everything.  Even Cyrene herself, behind the counter ready to welcome guests.  But on closer inspection, she _was out of place._

            Normally an open, enthusiastic person, she always had a ready smile and a good word to say.  But now she had a certain tightness around the eyes that Xena had never seen before.  A certain restraint held her body more rigid than usual.

            "Mom…?" Xena made to move towards her when Cyrene spoke.

            "There's someone waiting to see you in the dining hall." Her speech was as restrained as her outward appearance.

            Shifting her gaze from her mother, the warrior princess made her way to the dining hall, Batman in tow.

            Steeling herself, she opened the double doors wide.  The scene that greeted her was a bleak one.

            "Hello Xena." Callisto said.

            To her right stood a figure Xena didn't recognize, but could only guess was the man this 'Batman' was after.  In his hand was a crossbow, currently pointed at Gabrielle and Robin, tied up together in a chair.

            "Batman! Well met old chum!" The Joker chortled, his hilarity sorely out of place.  

            "A bit crude perhaps," the Clown Prince of Crime pursed his lips disappointedly, nodding at the crossbow and then the two sidekicks.  "But when in Greece…" He shrugged his shoulders.

            "I suppose letting them go is out of the question?" Xena asked.

            "Dear Xena, that same sense of humor," Callisto proceeded to unsheathe her sword.

            Xena did the same.

            "Oh, oh! I love a good catfight, don't you Batman?" And though he laughed, his aim never wavered from the kids.

            "What now?" Batman merely asked.

            "We watch," The Joker gestured to the women, now sizing each other up.  "You can't get this stuff on pay-per-view!"

            "And I wouldn't be getting any ideas 'Flatman', this thing's got a hair trigger. I've got my eye on you!"

            Saying nothing, Batman watched both the Joker and the ensuing conflict.

            Giving her sword an experimental twirl, Callisto licked her lips in anticipation.

            "Here, Xena, Xena, Xena…"

            For her part, Xena was no less anticipatory.  With a snarl they leapt at each other. The ring of steel on steel reverberated throughout the room.

            Coming off the rebound, Callisto made a vicious slash at the mid section.  Seeing it coming, Xena blocked, and made a stab of her own.

            Shifting her weight, Callisto was able to position her blade in time to deflect Xena's own.  In the opening that ensued, she threw an elbow to the face, which impacted with Xena's nose.

            Thrown off balance by the blow, Xena stumbled back, yet was still able to jump out of the way of Callisto's sword, which had come back. The pass going wide, she took advantage of the window of opportunity and thrust upwards, her own sword just grazing Callisto's chin.

            Having saved herself in the nick of time, Callisto sought more room between them, in order to buy time to bring her steel back into play.

            Xena took the momentary lull to regain her own composure.

            Having resettled themselves, they began to circle one another.  The opening volley was over, and each had tested the other's defenses.

            "First blood." Xena said into the ensuing silence.

            "It's 'last' that matters dear…" Screaming, Callisto came at her again.

            But this time Xena was ready.  With lighting like reflexes, she pulled a chair out from one of the tables and threw it at Callisto. Instinctively moving to block it, Callisto left herself open to a body tackle that sent both their weapons flying.

            Both women rolled about on the floor, scraping and clawing at one another.  Teeth, nails, all came into play as each sought to gain the upper hand.

            While all this went on, Robin was not unproductive.  He had noticed that no one was watching him and Gabrielle anymore.  Oh, the crossbow was still pointed at them, but the Joker was looking from Batman to the fight and back to Batman.  No one was taking any notice of the hostages.  This was the opportunity Robin had been waiting for.

            While bereft of his utility belt, they had not taken away his cape, which in itself was a sort of 'spare' belt. With his hands tied behind his back, he easily reached into his cape and retrieved the file blade he had there.

            It took but a few seconds work to free them from their bonds.  Cautioning Gabrielle to keep quiet, they moved out of the crossbow's path.

            "Batman!" Robin called, riveting attention back to them.

            Seeing them safe, Batman raced for the Joker, who was slower on the uptake.

            Shock and surprise clouded his features when he saw the sidekicks had moved, but before he could do anything he remembered Batman.  Spinning back around, he saw the Dark Knight descending on him.

            Panicky, he swiveled the crossbow around and shot at Batman, only to miss as the master detective leapt to one side.

            The meddlesome kids free, Batman coming for him, his ally occupied, and his one arrow spent, the Joker didn't have a lot of options. So he did what any sensible man would do: bolt for the back and jump out of a window.

            Desperation leant him speed as he fled on foot, Batman right behind him.

            Meanwhile, Xena had gained the advantage, and doubling her legs under Callisto's gut, she pushed off, sending the insane madwoman flying through the air to crash against the wall.

            Robin made to go help when Gabrielle laid a restraining hand on him. "It's Xena's fight." She said simply, sadness and pride reflected in her eyes. And though it was against his better judgement, he stayed put.

            Getting to her feet, Xena watched as Callisto dragged herself up from the floor.  Popping her neck, Callisto loosened herself up.  Then, rolling her head around a few times, she came at Xena again.

            Hand to hand they went at it.  No snappy dialogue, no witty banter, just two women dead serious about hurting one another.

            A kick to the stomach made Callisto wince, as well as giving Xena a chance to throw a palm in her face. Rocked back, Callisto was helpless to stop Xena from picking her up like a suitcase and throwing her across the room to slam into the wall once more.

            Groggy and shaken, the blond banshee rose to her feet again, only to be met with a chair in the face.  The seat shattered across her skull like so much balsa wood.

            Grabbing Callisto's hair, Xena slammed the villain's head into the wall repeatedly, heedless of the blood streaming down her opponent's face.

            But the Queen of Mean wasn't finished yet.  With feline agility, she wrenched her body around and thudded into Xena's solar plexus. The wind taken out of her, the warrior princess doubled over.  

It was now Callisto's turn to go on the offensive.

            Taking hold of Xena's hair, Callisto slammed a knee into the other woman's face.  Not content, she then crashed Xena's own head against the wall.

            Her enemy down and winded, Callisto looked around for her blade.  She either didn't see or didn't care that the hostages were free and the Joker gone.

            Rummaging through the rubble, she located her sword.  Testing its edge with her tongue, she smiled with satisfaction. Walking back over to Xena, she stood above her prostrated foe, relishing the moment.  It was just as it should be.  Xena on the ground, helpless, broken, waiting only to feel the cold metal slice into her flesh and separate her from this mortal coil called life.

            She raised the sword with triumph, much to the consternation of Gabrielle and Robin, who was himself still barred from interference, though he was on the verge of breaking that pledge.  But as fate would have it, he wouldn't need to.

            The warrior princess hadn't stayed alive all these years by being soft.  And while still not fully recovered, she did have enough resources left to avoid being skewered. Rolling towards Callisto, Xena managed to get out of the way of the sword while at the same time tripping up Callisto and sending her back to the floor.

            Jumping on top of her, Xena rejoined the fight with her nemesis. Around and around they rolled, each seeking purchase upon the other.  Like two maddened snakes they twisted and twined, fighting for dominance.

            With a Herculean effort, Callisto wrenched them upright, at the same time cracking her head against Xena's.  Stunned, they staggered away from each other, each shaking their head to clear it.

            Regaining their composure, they simply stared at each other for the longest time before the final explosive exchange.

            Having rushed each other at the same time, Gabrielle and Robin had trouble making out what happened next.

            In a flurry of energy, both women warriors threw punches that hit home.  Rocked back, each nearly fell to her knees. Shaking off the effects, they lashed out again.  The blows sent each careening into nearby tables for support, but still they stood. Leveraging themselves up, they stumbled towards one another once more. Again they each threw a punch that connected with the other. And again each nearly, but not quite, slumped to the floor.

            Beaten and battered, they appraised each other from under sweaty and matted hair.  A silent communication transcended the need for words. Like two animals, they looked into each other's eyes, each knowing that at the end of the day there could be only one.  The determination, the ferocity born of some wellspring more primeval than they could imagine, showed clearly upon their faces.

            There could be only one.

            To themselves the movement seemed glacial in its slowness; to the onlookers it was with the speed of lightning. Thrusting themselves at each other, each threw a final blow to end it.  Their hearts, their souls, their entire beings were put behind the punch.  A blow that could break stone, shatter bone, pulp wood, that was the magnitude witnessed.

            When their fists connected, the sound could have been heard from the streets.

            With a sickening _CRACK!_ the blows found their way home, spinning each woman around, eyes glazed over. Each fell to the floor heavily.  Neither moved.

            Her heart in her throat, Gabrielle rushed to Xena's side, Robin right behind her.  

            The bard took Xena's head into her lap, tears streaming down her face as Robin franticly searched for a pulse.  When he found one he relaxed. It was then that the warrior's eyelids fluttered open, and she smiled briefly at her stalwart companion.  Gabrielle warned her not to speak, but Xena would not be denied.

            "Is she…" was all she was able to croak out.

            Robin rushed over and checked Callisto.

            "She's alive," he said, relief coloring his voice.

            The warrior princess simply nodded and proceeded to pass out.

***

            Running through the knee-high grass, heedless of the pain in his side, the Joker made his bid for freedom.

            Any semblance of rational thought he may have still retained went out the window the same time he had.  He was reacting from pure instinct. Self-preservation.  And instinct told him to run away as fast as he could. Where he was going, or what he was going to do, didn't impress itself on his mind.  All that mattered was eluding the Bat.

            By this time dusk had fallen and his way was illuminated by the light of the full moon hanging motionless in the starry sky above.

            A rustle in the bushes to the left.  Was it Batman? Tensed, he awaited the spring, only to see a rabbit emerge. Running once more he noticed a flicker in the night.  Was _it_ the Bat? No, just an actual bat.

            Continuing on his way, he stumbled over a half-buried log.  Muttering, he started to get to his feet only to stop cold.

            There on the ground in front of him, lit by the glittering light of the heavens above, was a shadow.  A shadow that continued to lengthen as its owner came closer.  A shadow that ended in two long points at the top.  A shadow very much like a bat.

            Turning around slowly, the Joker looked up into the face that had chased him over half a world and millennia into the past.

            "Hello Joker…"


	20. Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

            "It was…_interesting meeting you…" Xena said with a half smile, shaking Batman's hand._

            Gabrielle's farewell was much more demonstrative as she hugged a rather uncomfortable looking Robin. "If you're ever in Greece again, look us up!"

            "I'll be sure to do that," the Boy Wonder grinned back. However, something was still gnawing at the back of his mind.  So while Batman and Xena exchanged pleasantries, he resolved to broach the issue one final time.

            "I'm serious about what I said Gabrielle.  You need to sit down and really look at this life you're choosing to lead.  It doesn't always turn out like it did yesterday.  Promise me that you'll really think about it."

            "Okay." The bard took his hand into hers.  "I'll think about it."

            "But really," and her tone took on a note of gaiety, "nothing can happen as long as me and Xena are together!"

            "I hope you're right.  For your sake I honestly hope so…"

            With the Joker in tow, the Dynamic Duo bid Xena and Gabrielle farewell. It wasn't until they had rounded a bend and were out of sight that Robin gave voice to his fears.

            "Now what?" He asked of his mentor.

            Up till now, the Joker had been subdued.  Head hung down and sullen, he hadn't said a word.  But now he was back in form.

            "Yeah, now what Batsey?" Chuckling, he shook his manacled fists.  "It's not like you can hop a slow boat to Gotham.  Unless you intend to buy it for a handful of beads when you get there!" The Joker gave vent to his amusement.

            While the Joker laughed, and Robin looked on worriedly, Batman was already thinking.

            He knew the principles of time travel of course, and had even had a hand in making a machine or two.  The first thing he'd need was to find a place for smelting.  From there—

            His planning never got any further than that, for at that moment there was a burst of light and two figures stood in front of them on the trail, one expressionless, the other smiling.

            "I know you like to get away from it all, but…" Superman joked, crossing his arms over his chest.

            The Joker's laughter had died off and the sullen expression had returned.

            "It's a good thing we have a time traveler in the JLA," The Man of Steel went on, indicating the 'man' standing next to him.

            While some part of him resented it, Batman _was_ grateful to be 'rescued' by the Kryptoinian, and more importantly, his companion, the time traveling android known as 'Hourman'.

            "You know Oracle's been running everyone ragged trying to find you.  It even got to the point where Wally dragged out the Cosmic Treadmill.  I'd been searching for days myself before I came across Hourman here.  If it wasn't for him, we'd still be hopping blindly from era to era."

            "No praise is needed Superman," the android replied, his immensely logical mind taking over. "Batman required assistance, I was in a position to render such.  I did only what the situation dictated."

            Chuckling to himself, Superman closed the distance to shake Batman's hand.

            "What do you say we get back before the Legion of Superheroes gets in on the act?"

            Nodding, Batman and the rest followed the Man of Tomorrow.  And in a flash of light there remained only a lonely trail.

***

            Seeing their friends disappear around the bend, Xena and Gabrielle turned towards each other.

            "Well," the warrior princess exhaled.  "Our friends are on their way, the town is saved, and the authorities are coming by to pick up Callisto.  So, what now?"

            "How 'bout some food?"

            Guffawing loudly, Xena slapped an arm across her friend's shoulder.  Laughing together, they headed for the inn.


	21. Epilouge

EPILOGUE

            Time.  Time was the great arbitrator.  All things came in the fullness of time.

            Locked up in their little rooms, away from the rest of the world, they waited.  Their time would come again.  Like the tides, time waits for no one.  And like the tide, time continues on its way unchecked, unencumbered, to one day return from which it came.

            Their time would come; they had only to wait.  Only to wait…


End file.
